The Parisian leapt back when it was within an inch of his breast; one of the bravoes followed up, springing a pace in advance of his companions and lengthening his arm in a powerful lunge.

Garnache caught the blade almost on his hilt, and by the slightest turn of the wrist made a simultaneous presentment of his point at the other's outstretched throat.

It took the fellow just above the Adam's apple, and with a horrid, gurgling cry he sank, stretched as he still was in the attitude of that murderous lunge that had proved fatal only to himself.
Garnache had come on guard again upon the instant.

Yet in the briefest of seconds during which his sword had been about its work of death, Fortunio's rapier came at him a second time.

He beat the blade aside with his bare left hand and stopped with his point the rush of the other bravo.