“Thunder and lightning,” the other young man exclaimed, drawing his sword, “what means this, young cockerel?”

Rupert’s sword flew from its sheath, but before he could cross it, James Brownlow sprang to his feet and crying to his friend, “Stand back!  I will spit the saucy knave!” rushed upon Rupert.

The swords clashed, and almost simultaneously Brownlow’s weapon flew far through the air.

With a cry of fury he ran to fetch it, while his companion burst into a coarse laugh.

Rupert did not move from his position, but stood passive, until his antagonist again rushed at him.

“Mind this time,” Rupert said, between his teeth, “for I will kill you like a dog.”

Warned by the lesson, James Brownlow fought more carefully; but he was too enraged to continue these tactics long, and after a short bout he lunged furiously.  Rupert turned aside the point and straightened his arm, and his antagonist fell to the ground, run completely through the body.

“You are a witness that I killed him in fair fight,” Rupert said, turning to the young man, who gazed stupefied at the body of his comrade, and then sheathing his sword bounded away to the stables.

Hugh was there.

“Quick, Hugh; saddle Ronald.  I have just killed young Brownlow, and must ride for it.”

Hugh stood for a moment astonished, and then calling a helper ran into the stables.  In a minute he came out with two horses saddled.  Without a word Rupert leapt on one, while he vaulted on the other, and the two dashed off at full speed.

“Where are you going, Master Rupert?”

“To London,” Rupert said.  “This is no place for me now.  I killed him in fair fight, and after warning; still, what with Sir William and my lady mother, there will be no stopping here.  You had better ride back, Hugh, and tell my grandfather, privately, that I am going to the Earl of Marlborough, to ask him to give me the cornetcy he promised me.”

“With your leave, Master Rupert, I shall do nothing of the sort.  Where you go, I go.  My grandfather rode out with yours to Naseby, and died there.  My people have been the tenants of the Chace as long as the Hollidays have been its lords, and have always followed their master to the field.  My old father would beat me out of the house with a broom handle, if I went back and said I had let you go to the wars alone.  No, master Rupert, wherever you go, Hugh Parsons goes too.”

Rupert held out his hand, which his companion grasped, and the two galloped rapidly along the road towards London.

In the meantime all was consternation at the Chace.

Colonel Holliday and Monsieur Dessin were deeply engaged in conversation when Adele burst in upon them.

“Quick, quick!” she exclaimed, “Monsieur Rupert is fighting with a wicked young man!”

“Then,” said Monsieur Dessin grimly, “it will be very bad for the wicked young man, whoever he is.”