Rupert dropped his sword, which was useless now, and struggled for his life.

He felt what his enemy's object was, to throw both over the end of the terrace.

He was strong and athletic, but he was far from being a match for his older opponent, to whom rage, despair, and hatred lent a prodigious strength.
"Hugh," he shouted, "Quick! Quick!" Joe Sedley was the first to leap to the terrace with a torch, and stood for a moment aghast as he saw the deadly struggle going on, close to the slight wooden railing which ran along the edge of the terrace; then he sprang forward, and just as the struggling foes crashed through the woodwork, and were in the very act of falling over the low stone parapet, he dashed the torch in Sir Richard's face, while at the same moment he grasped Rupert's shoulder with a grip of iron, and dragged him back; as his foe loosed his grasp when the torch struck him in the face, and dropped in the darkness.
"A close squeak that, sir.

The fellow died hard," Joe Sedley said, cheerily.
"It was indeed, Joe.

I owe my life to you." "Oh, it was all in the way of business, sir.