"If you would prefer to wait--" But it occurred to Sir Terence that in the gloom the advantage might lie slightly with himself, since the other's superior sword-play would perhaps be partly neutralised.

He cast a last look round at the dark windows.
"I find it light enough," he answered.
Samoval's reply was instantaneous.

"On guard, then," he cried, and on the words, without giving Sir Terence so much as time to comply with the invitation, he whirled his point straight and deadly at the greyish outline of his opponent's body.

But a ray of moonlight caught the blade and its livid flash gave Sir Terence warning of the thrust so treacherously delivered.

He saved himself by leaping backwards--just saved himself with not an inch to spare--and threw up his blade to meet the thrust.
"Ye murderous villain," he snarled under his breath, as steel ground on steel, and he flung forward to the attack.
But from the gloom came a little laugh to answer him, and his angry lunge was foiled by an enveloping movement that ended in a ripost.