As they passed I recognized them. One was Mohun, the other Nighthawk.
XXII.
DARKE AND MOHUN.
What followed was instantaneous.
The adversaries were face to face, and each drew his pistol and fired
at the same moment.
Neither was struck: they drew their swords; and, through the cloud of
smoke filling the apartment, I could see Darke and Mohun close in, in a
hand to hand encounter.
They were both excellent swordsmen, and the struggle was passionate and
terrible. Mohun's movements were those of the tiger springing upon his
prey; but Darke met the attack with a coolness and phlegm which
indicated unshrinking nerve; his expression seemed, even, to indicate
that crossing swords with his adversary gave the swarthy giant extreme
pleasure. His face glowed, and a flash darted from beneath the shaggy
eyebrows. I could see him smile; but the smile was strange.
From the adversaries my glance passed quickly to the gray woman. She
was leaning against the wall, and exhibited no emotion whatever; but
the lurid blaze in the great dark eyes, as she looked at Mohun, clearly
indicated that a storm was raging in her bosom. Opposite the woman
stood Nighthawk--motionless, but grasping a pistol. As to Swartz, that
worthy had profited by an open window near, and had glided through it
and disappeared.
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