” ‘Monster! Fiend!’ wailed Il Conde. ‘Unhand that coin!’ The ancient threw himself upon the ruffian, belaboring wildly with his cane. ‘My Ruiz! My Ruiz!’
“Then—imagine this! Naturally enough, we thought to see Rascogne deal with the old fool as easily as he had done earlier with Sir Carayne; but it was not so, not at all!—so overwrought was Il Conde at the loss of his prized Ruiz that he wielded his cane with a maddened frenzy that should soon have maimed any but the greatest of swordsmen. Rascogne’s grin was soon replaced with astonishment, then, as he gave ground before Il Conde’s onslaught, to that intent concentration which is the hallmark of all masters of the fencing art.
” ‘O doughty dotard!’ he exclaimed, parrying the whirling cane, ‘O grim gaffer! Well struck—oh, well struck! And yet again!’ The highwayman leapt back and forth, his rapier flashing in complex twirls and sweeps; Il Conde’s implacable advance continued on tottering legs. ‘My Ruiz, my Ruiz,’ he wheezed. Never have I seen such a duel! Only Rascogne’s genius with a blade sufficed to stave off the oldster’s assault; sweat poured down his swarthy, corded neck. He was hard-pressed—more, he was in desperate straits! And now!—Il Conde had him pinned against the side of the coach—there was nowhere to retreat! Now were Rascogne’s advantages of sound legs and functioning lungs of little avail—it was sword against cane at close quarters! Slash—stroke—lunge—parry! We were gripped in an intense excitement; the robber was lost!—it was plain to see—the end near, his strength failing at last under the inexorable rain of blows from Il Conde’s cane. But then!—I had heard tell of it—dismissed it as a ridiculous fable—Rascogne executed the dégage sixte-carte du droite arriere à la potage de St. Germain! Il Conde was disarmed—the highwayman’s swordpoint at his throat! The old nobleman wept bitter tears. ‘My Ruiz, my lost Ruiz,’ he sobbed.
“Rascogne gasped a breath; sheathed his rapier. ‘O valiant vieillard!’ he cried, clasping the ancient to his breast. ‘Never have I had such a match! Never such an opponent! Never crossed sword with such a cane!’ He released Il Conde and drew forth the contested coin. ‘Such art deserves its reward!—here, sirrah, take your coin in token of my esteem.’ ‘My Ruiz,’ cried the nobleman, snatching the coin. He tottered off, clutching the piece. ‘My Ruiz, my Ruiz,’ we heard his faint whisper.
“Just at that moment a distant cry was heard. ‘It is Rascogne de Sevigneois! Hold, villain!’ Turning, we saw a large body of horsemen, some twenty in number, appear on the western horizon. They drew their swords; galloped hotly toward us. ‘Aha!’ cried Rascogne. ‘A chase! A merry chase!’ With a laugh and a shout, the rogue sprang on his horse and galloped off, flourishing his hat at his pursuers. These worthies pounded past the coach a moment later. Grim of face, stern of demeanor, garbed all in black, their capes streamed behind them as they thundered off in the hunt. In a moment, highwayman and pursuers alike had disappeared over the eastern horizon.
” ‘It’s the Maréchal du Boeuf and the King’s Men!’ exclaimed the messenger, excitement tingeing his voice. ‘Which King?’ asked the cleric. ‘Nobody remembers,’ came the gloomy reply.
“Before long we were on our way. There was no conversation in the coach; the only sound, Il Conde’s murmurs and chuckles as he fondled his precious Ruiz. La Contessa slept in contented exhaustion; while Sir Carayne glowered at her the whole way, picking dirt from his teeth. The messenger’s gloomy countenance was as always—but matched now by the cleric and the wizard; the former, raining down heavenly curses—the latter, sorcerous hexes—upon the highwayman. The dwarf, on the other hand, seemed rather cheerful.
“We reached the Caravanserai with the setting sun. Its lingering rays lit up the white stone walls of the oasis. The minarets gleamed for a moment; then, twilight overtook them as well. The gates of the Caravanserai swung wide; before long we had pulled up into the courtyard of the depot—and debarked. The last I saw of the Rebel and his companion was the wizard’s back and the dwarf’s little legs, twinkling under his great sack, as they vanished into the darkness.”