But Rotherby, without so much as allowing his steel to touch his opponent's, as the laws of courtesy demanded, swirled it away again into the higher lines and lunged.

It was almost like a foul attempt to take his adversary unawares and unprepared, and for a second it looked as if it must succeed.

It must have succeeded but for the miraculous quickness of Mr.Caryll.Swinging round on the ball of his right foot, lightly and gracefully as a dancing master, and with no sign of haste or fear in his amazing speed, he let the other's hard-driven blade glance past him, to meet nothing but the empty air.
As a result, by the very force of the stroke, Rotherby found himself over-reached and carried beyond his point of aim; while Mr.Caryll's sideward movement brought him not only nearer his opponent, but entirely within his guard.
It was seen by them all, and by none with such panic as Rotherby himself, that, as a consequence of his quasi-foul stroke, the viscount was thrown entirely at the mercy of his opponent thus at the very outset of the encounter, before their blades had so much as touched each other.
A straightening of the arm on the part of Mr.Caryll, and the engagement would have been at an end.
Mr.Caryll, however, did not straighten his arm.

He was observed to smile as he broke ground and waited for his lordship to recover.
Falgate turned pale.

Mainwaring swore softly under his breath, in fear for his principal; Gascoigne did the same in vexation at the opportunity Mr.Caryll had so wantonly wasted.