His heart was warm.
His momentary vision of Sheila Llyn remained with him--not as a vision, rather as a warmth in his inmost being, something which made him intensely alert, cheerful, defiant, exactly skilful.
He had need of all his skill, for Mallow was set to win the fight.

He felt instinctively what was working in Dyck's mind.

He had fought a number of duels, and with a certain trick or art he had given the end to the lives of several.

He became conscious, however, that Dyck had a particular stroke in mind, which he himself was preventing by masterful methods.

It might be one thing or another, but in view of Dyck's training it would perhaps be the Enniscorthy touch.
Again and again Dyck pressed his antagonist backward, seeking to muddle his defence and to clear an opening for his own deadly stroke; but the other man also was a master, and parried successfully.
Presently, with a quick move, Mallow took the offensive, and tried to unsettle Dyck's poise and disorganize his battle-plan.