The Ball and the Cross. G. K. Chesterton

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      “Well, shall we fight now?” he said.

      “Yes,” said MacIan, with a sudden contraction of his black brows, “yes, it must be now.”

      The bright swords crossed, and the first touch of them, travelling down blade and arm, told each combatant that the heart of the other was awakened. It was not in that way that the swords rang together when they had rushed on each other in the little garden behind the dealer’s shop.

      There was a pause, and then MacIan made a movement as if to thrust, and almost at the same moment Turnbull suddenly and calmly dropped his sword. Evan stared round in an unusual bewilderment, and then realized that a large man in pale clothes and a Panama hat was strolling serenely towards them.