He had only his sword in his hand.

My men were hot upon him; Sapt and Fritz were running up.

I had outstripped them; but if they got close enough to fire, he must die or surrender.
"At last!" I cried.
"It's the play-actor!" cried he, slashing at my cudgel.

He cut it clean in two; and, judging discretion better than death, I ducked my head and (I blush to tell it) scampered for my life.

The devil was in Rupert Hentzau; for he put spurs to his horse, and I, turning to look, saw him ride, full gallop, to the edge of the moat and leap in, while the shots of our party fell thick round him like hail.