Simultaneously the boy's foot struck the back of the chair which in rising Crispin had overset, and he stumbled.
How it happened he scarcely knew, but as he hurtled forward his blade slid along his opponent's, and entering Gregory's right shoulder pinned him to the wainscot.
Joseph heard the tinkle of a falling blade, and assumed it to be Kenneth's.

For the rest he was just then too busy to dare withdraw for a second his eyes from Crispin's.

Until that hour Joseph Ashburn had accounted himself something of a swordsman, and more than a match for most masters of the weapon.

But in Crispin he found a fencer of a quality such as he had never yet encountered.

Every feint, every botte in his catalogue had he paraded in quick succession, yet ever with the same result--his point was foiled and put aside with ease.
Desperately he fought now, darting that point of his hither and thither in and out whenever the slightest opening offered; yet ever did it meet the gentle averting pressure of Crispin's blade.