En Garde (Nancy Drew (All New) Girl Detective Book 17) Read Online Free PDF

distracted. “Shhh.”
    The petite reporter in the pink sweater was on the screen. “We all know about the noble art of fencing,” she began. “What started out as two guys with swords trying to kill each other has been tamed over the centuries into a beautiful sport, with traditions, rules, and courtly ceremony.” The image on the screen showed two fencers I didn’t recognize, touching their swords to their masks and bowing to each other before their bout.
    The reporter paused for a beat. “Or has it?”
    The camera image switched to a close-up of Bela Kovacs and Paul Mourbiers rolling on the floor, raining blows on each other.
    “This was the scene today at a ‘friendly’ fencing meet at the University of River Heights field house,” the reporter said. “Two fencing coaches got into a heated dispute when an equipment malfunction led to an injury for one young woman fencer. Officials penalized Bela Kovacs, of Salle Budapest in River Heights, for ‘going to the mat’ with his colleague Paul Mourbiers, of Salle Olympique in Cutler Falls.”
    The camera cut to Mourbiers, being interviewed after the fight. “It is very unfortunate when an adult behaves in such a childish fashion,” he said, pursing his lips and playing up his French accent. “A man who should be a role model for his students—it’s a shame. The officials were correct to disqualify him.”
    The reporter asked, “What was the equipment malfunction?”
    Mourbiers held up Una’s torn gauntlet. “This glove—we call it a gauntlet—is supposed to protect the sword hand of the fencer during a match,” he explained. “My protégée, Una Merrick—a lovely young girl and a marvelous fencing talent—suffered a bloody gash all up her arm because this gauntlet split open.”
    There was a quick cut to Una, holding up her bandaged arm. From the miserable expression on her face, I could guess she wasn’t happy about showing off her injury on TV.
    The camera went back to Mourbiers. “When the referee looked at the glove,” he continued, “it became clear that it was not Una’s own glove. Someone must have placed this damaged gauntlet with her equipment. I merely questioned the referee about the possibility of sabotage, and then suddenly this other coach, this Kovacs fellow—that’s Bela Kovacs, who runs the Salle Budapest fencing school—got completely out of hand.” The image on screen switched to footage of Kovacs charging at Mourbiers, his hair wild and his eyes blazing.
    “Do you think this penalty has taught him a lesson?” the reporter asked.
    Mourbiers shrugged expressively and cast a sorrowfullook up to the ceiling. “If only life were that simple. But I don’t know if it is possible for an old dog like Bela Kovacs to learn such new tricks. He learned the sport many years ago in Hungary, you see. Hungarians were always known to be vicious fighters. Like Attila the Hun, for example.”
    My father snorted. “That’s a low blow, bringing in Attila the Hun!”
    “Bela Kovacs carries on that tradition of winning at all costs,” Mourbiers continued. “I’ve known Bela many years. We met when we competed against each other in ’76, at the Olympics in Montreal. There were rumors about him even then. I don’t know—if I were hiring a fencing master to teach my child this sport, I wouldn’t send him to study with a man of such questionable reputation. I wouldn’t send him to Salle Budapest.”
    The reporter faced the camera and announced, “This is Kelly Chaffetz, at the University of River Heights field house. Steve, back to you.”
    My dad lowered the volume as the next segment began—late-breaking coverage of a grocery store grand opening over in Farmingville. “That must have been some fencing match,” he said. “Did you witness the fight, Nan?”
    I sighed. “Yes, I was right there. One of George’s friends was involved.”
    “The girl with the bandaged arm?” Hannah asked, her voice full of concern.
    I shook my