[Micah Clarke by Arthur Conan Doyle]@TWC D-Link bookMicah Clarke CHAPTER XXI 14/45
'Why, the ring is but the girth of your little finger.
A man might do it once by good luck, but none could ensure it.' 'I will lay a guinea a thrust on it,' said Saxon; and tossing the little gold circlet up into the air, he flashed out his rapier and made a pass at it.
The ring rasped down the steel blade and tinkled against the hilt, fairly impaled.
By a sharp motion of the wrist he shot it up to the ceiling again, where it struck a carved rafter and altered its course; but again, with a quick step forward, he got beneath it and received it on his sword-point.
'Surely there is some cavalier present who is as apt at the trick as I am,' he said, replacing the ring upon his finger. 'I think, Colonel, that I could venture upon it,' said a voice; and looking round, we found that Monmouth had entered the room and was standing quietly on the outskirts of the throng, unperceived in the general interest which our contention had excited.
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