‘Life and death are equally within my grasp. Whom shall I call up? Will you see the ghastly corpse of the Croce Bianca, at Milan?’
‘No! No!’ cried Gaudin, covering his eyes with his hand, as if he dreaded to meet the horrid sight.
‘Will that serve to recall its memory as well?’ asked Exili, throwing a phial upon the table.
A glance sufficed to show its nature to Sainte-Croix. It was a small bottle of the terrible Aqua Tofana—the ‘Manna of St. Nicholas de Barri.’
‘That menstruum is powerless, compared to what I am about to show you. But first, look here.’
He stooped beneath the table, and pulled out a species of cage, in which several rats were huddled together, fighting, and scrambling over their fellows.
‘Where did you get those vermin from?’ inquired Gaudin.
‘There are more in the Bastille than are wanted,’ replied Exili. ‘They have been willingly granted by some poor wretch at the base of our tower. Galouchet bought them. I told him they were to study anatomy from.’
He plunged his hand fearlessly amongst them, and drew forth one of the shrieking animals. Then squeezing its throat, he poured a drop or two of the fluid down the mouth. The rat gave a few convulsive throes, and he threw it down, dead, upon the table.
‘You see the effect of the potion,’ he continued. ‘Now, look here.’