He desired, in accusing Sir John, also to clear
himself in the eyes of Rosamund's brother, to make the latter realize
how entirely odious were the calumnies which Sir John had permitted
himself, and how basely prompted.
Sir John, however, came halfway to meet the quarrel. His rancour
against the Pirate of Penarrow--as he had come to dub Sir Oliver--
endered him almost as eager to engage as was his visitor.
They found a secluded corner of the deer-park for their business, and
there Sir John--a slim, sallow gentleman of some thirty years of age--
made an onslaught with sword and dagger upon Sir Oliver, full worthy of
the onslaught he had made earlier with his tongue. But his impetuosity
availed him less than nothing. Sir Oliver was come there with a
certain purpose, and it was his way that he never failed to carry
through a thing to which he set his hand.
In three minutes it was all over and Sir Oliver was carefully wiping
his blade, whilst Sir John lay coughing upon the turf tended by
white-faced Peter Godolphin and a scared groom who had been bidden
thither to make up the necessary tale of witnesses.
Sir Oliver sheathed his weapons and resumed his coat, then came to
stand over his fallen foe, considering him critically.
"I think I have silenced him for a little time only," he said. "And I
confess that I intended to do better. I hope, however, that the lesson
will suffice and that he will lie no more--at least concerning me.
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