The sick man gulped it down, and made a wry face.
"How bitter it tastes," he said, with a shudder.
"Good-night, señor."
"Good-night."
Chivey did not remain very long absent.
The heavy breathing of the notary soon told him that it was safe to return to the room.
The business of the morrow so filled the mind of the old Spaniard, that he was talking of it in his sleep.
"At an hour after daybreak, I tell you, Murray," he muttered. "The berth is paid for, paid for by my gold. You follow on the track of your enemy Harkaway, and once you are within reach, give a sharp, sure stroke, and you will be free from your only enemy, seeing that you have already taken good care of your traitor servant."
Chivey was amazed, electrified.