Chapter 35
Francis, glad of a moment or two’s solitude in which to
rearrange his somewhat distorted sensations, found an empty space
in the stern of the launch and stood leaning over the rail. His
pulses were still tingling with the indubitable excitement of the
last half-hour. It was all there, even now, before his eyes like a
cinematograph picture— the duel between those two men, a duel of
knowledge, of strength, of science, of courage. From beginning to
end, there had been no moment when Francis had felt that he was
looking on at what was in any way a degrading or immoral spectacle.
Each man had fought in his way to win. Young Wilmore, graceful as a
panther, with a keen, joyous desire of youth for supremacy written
in his face and in the dogged lines of his mouth; the buddin
