He brought down his hand stiff as a bar of iron on the man’s neck with a blow that was certainly not in the Queensberry Rules, but was the chop of death he had learned from the Chinese on his travels.
The man fell as if pole-axed, but Giona was only watching the Duke.
There was a smile of satisfaction on his face at having defeated his opponent and it was then that she was aware that her uncle had drawn his pistol from his right-hand pocket.
“Well done, Your Grace!” he sneered, “but unfortunately Round Two is still to come!”
As he raised his pistol dramatically to bring his aim down on his defenceless victim, Giona slipped her hand into the other pocket of her uncle’s coat and pulled out the other pistol.
Without thinking, without even pausing, she pointed it at his heart and pulled t
