The man in black and silver rose and removed his doublet, folding it very carefully, inside out, that the sand might not injure the velvet, then drew his rapier, looked at it lovingly, made it bend until point and hilt well-nigh met, and faced me with a bow.

“You have fought twice, and must be weary,” he said. “Will you not take breath before we engage, or will your long rest afterward suffice you?”

“I will rest aboard my ship,” I made reply. “And as I am in a hurry to be gone we won’t delay.”

Our blades had no sooner crossed than I knew that in this last encounter I should need every whit of my skill, all my wit, audacity, and strength. I had met my equal, and he came to it fresh and I jaded.