‘Beware!’ cried Sainte-Croix; ‘if you touch one, I will hew you down as I would a dog. Not one of them is mine. They belong to the Marchioness of Brinvilliers.’
‘Nay,’ replied Exili, changing his tone, ‘I did but admire them. Come, then, a truce to this. Will you promise me the sum named in the bond to-morrow?’
‘To-morrow you shall have it,’ said Sainte-Croix.
‘I am satisfied,’ said the physician. ‘I was annoyed at the moment, but it has passed.’
And he turned round to the furnace to superintend the progress of some preparation that was evaporating over the fire.
‘What have you there?’ asked Gaudin, who appeared anxious to prolong the interview, and carry on the time as he best might.
‘A venom more deadly than any we have yet known—that will kill like lightning and leave no trace of its presence to the most subtle tests. I have been weeks preparing it, and it approaches perfection.’
‘You will give me the secret?’ asked Gaudin.
‘As soon as it is finished, and the time is coming on apace. You have arrived opportunely to assist me.’
He took a mask with glass eyes from a shelf, and tied it round his face.