The watcher by the door noted with some satisfaction that both men applied themselves assiduously to the flagons of wine beside them, in fact, they were neither of them quite sober. As the man whose back was towards him put down his cards he shivered and half turned in his chair with a muttered imprecation upon old women who left doors open.
The duke slipped back into the shadows and raised his weapon and waited. But nothing happened; the man was perhaps too lazy to rise, and was waiting for the return of Teresa.
Edward listened to his companion's whispered instructions carefully. The little old man was to be held at the point of the revolver whilst the duke grappled with the other and stronger man, whose back being turned offered himself as an easy prey.
With a muttered "now," they flung open the door, and with a bound the duke was upon the man at the table, his arm locked around his neck in a vice-like grip. Gradually he bore him backwards, tilting the chair up on its back legs. The ruffian's face was purple, and he made a gurgling noise in his throat. Then the oak of the chair legs cracked, cracked again, and splintered, and the men were on the floor together.
A nimble twist, remarkable in so big a man, and learnt, perhaps, in the bull-ring, put the man on his feet again, and he snatched at a knife on the table. When he turned, the duke was also up, and leaning panting against the wall. The revolver had been knocked from his hand in the struggle, and had fallen neither man knew where.
Keeping his eyes fixed upon his opponent and crouching low, the man with the knife reached out his left hand and took hold of the tablecloth; then, with a swift movement, he dragged it to him, waving it until it was wound round his left forearm. The crockery and glass fell crashing to the floor, and the duke noticed a wine bottle rolling away to the wainscoting, leaving a red trail like blood over the scattered playing cards. But his eyes were quickly back again upon the man, who with his tablecloth-shielded arm was creeping cat-like up to him.
The duke counted himself lost, as, unarmed as he was, he awaited the inevitable spring. He gave one glance at Edward, who was standing over the old manservant, the revolver held waveringly within an inch of the evil face. Povey had not dared take his eyes from his captive; he heard the shuffling of stealthy feet as the men circled round each other, heard one of them kick a dish that was hampering him, sending it crashing against the wall. Then there was the sharp crack of a firearm, and he could stand the suspense no longer.