“Why, what is it?” demanded the old man.
The new-comer dropped on to the bench beside the door before answering. Then, assuming a more solemn expression, he said in impressive tones—
“Your work has been done. This morning King Leopold went mad and cut his throat. He died at noon.”
As soon as he had finished speaking the young man who had been entrusted with the sealed weapon gave a loud cry, and tottered as though he would fall.
The giant rushed to his assistance, and, taking the pistol from his nerveless clasp, handed it to the leader.
He took it, and pointed it downwards.
“You have spoken truth,” he said gravely. “God has done our work.”
And he fired the pistol.
He was about to throw away the smoking weapon when Johann stepped forward and laid his hand upon it.
“Stay. It may be wanted yet,” he observed quietly.