Yet something warned him: it may be there came a look in Rupert's eyes, perhaps of scorn for his enemy's simplicity, perhaps of pure triumph in the graceless knavery.

Rudolf stood waiting.
"You swear you won't touch me while I pick it up ?" asked Rupert, shrinking back a little, and thereby getting an inch or two nearer the mantelpiece.
"You have my promise: pick it up.

I won't wait any longer." "You won't kill me unarmed ?" cried Rupert, in alarmed scandalized expostulation.
"No; but--" The speech went unfinished, unless a sudden cry were its ending.

And, as he cried, Rudolf Rassendyll, dropping his sword on the ground, sprang forward.

For Rupert's hand had shot out behind him and was on the butt of one of the revolvers.