“‘Let us see,’ he continued, ‘if his heart still beats.’
“As the officer knelt in order to accommodate his head to the leaning position of the body, Ram Lal stood as one transfixed.
“His hand crept slowly to the dagger upon the table, which he grasped with an expression of desperate determination as the officer placed his ear close to the riches concealed beneath the tunic of the prince.
“Kneeling thus, with scarcely a hand-breadth between him and wealth such as he had never dared to dream of, with the menacing figure of the merchant directly above him, prepared to strike at the least indication of suspicion of the jacket and its priceless contents, the pair presented a striking tableau of the sardonic jest in which fate sometimes indulges in providing such nearness of opportunity and such a threat to its embrace.
“‘There is something thick about the body!’ exclaimed the kneeling officer.
“Ram Lal crept nearer.
“‘Yes,’ he replied with a stifled voice, as he shot a quick glance toward the curtained doorway, on the other side of which the sergeant was posted, ‘yes, the prince was of a phthisical tendency.
“‘He was compelled to protect himself against inequalities of temperature.’
“At this instant the quick eye of the merchant detected the livid scratch on the dead man’s arm. ‘Ha!’ he cried, with an intonation which caused the officer to forego his examination for the moment and regard the merchant attentively.
“‘Here!’ cried the latter, pointing to the discolored and swollen wrist, ‘here! There is no need to look for further sign of life; his heart will beat no more. This dagger has been inserted in the poison sac of the cobra—and here is the result!’