Yes, we were man to man: and we began to fight, silently, sternly, and hard.
Yet I remember little of it, save that the man was my match with the sword--nay, and more, for he knew more tricks than I; and that he forced me back against the bars that guarded the entrance to "Jacob's Ladder." And I saw a smile on his face, and he wounded me in the left arm.
No glory do I take for that contest.

I believe that the man would have mastered me and slain me, and then done his butcher's work, for he was the most skilful swordsman I have ever met; but even as he pressed me hard, the half-mad, wasted, wan creature in the corner leapt high in lunatic mirth, shrieking: "It's cousin Rudolf! Cousin Rudolf! I'll help you, cousin Rudolf!" and catching up a chair in his hands (he could but just lift it from the ground and hold it uselessly before him) he came towards us.

Hope came to me.

"Come on!" I cried.

"Come on! Drive it against his legs." Detchard replied with a savage thrust.