Archer at his elbow, soothing him like; and I, I don't
know how--behind him.
'By this time he had worked himself into a mad passion, and says he,
"Curse your foxing--if you won't play like a man, you may die like a
dog." I think 'twas them words ruined him; the chamber-maid heard them
outside; and he struck Mr. Beauclerc half-a-dozen blows with the side of
the small-sword across the body, here and there, quite unsteady; and
"Hold, my lord, you've hurt him," cries Mr. Archer, as loud as he could
cry. "Put up your sword for Heaven's sake," and he makes a sort of
scuffle with my lord, in a friendly way, to disarm him, and push him
away, and "Throw down the coverlet and see where he's wounded," says he
to me; and so I did, and there was a great pool of blood--_we_ knew all
about that--and my lord looked shocked when he seen it. "I did not mean
that," says my lord; "but," says he, with a sulky curse, "he's well
served."
'I don't know whether Glascock was in the room or not all this while,
maybe he was; at any rate, he swore to it afterwards; but you've read
the trial, I warrant. The room was soon full of people.
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