"What is it?" gasped M. Morrel, catching the Italian by the arm.
"I do not know," answered the latter. "But look at Massetti—his face is violet, the preliminary hue of death! If the Jew kills the patient nothing can save him from the fury of the Roman populace!"
The subtle odor increased in intensity and the Viscount's face changed from violet to an ashen paleness.
"He is dead!" cried the Italian. "Dr. Absalom, you are a murderer!"
The Hebrew waved his hand commandingly and, with a look of the utmost dignity and sternness, said:
"Be silent and wait!"
He corked the vial, replaced it in his pocket and opened a window. The fresh air flooded the place and gradually the oppressive odor vanished.
The patient was yet of a ghastly pallor. Dr. Absalom felt his pulse, counting the beats by his watch. A smile of satisfaction overspread his intellectual countenance.
"The remedy has done its work!" he said. "Now for the second and vital application! Whatever may happen," he added, impressively, turning to the Italian physician, "I charge you on your life not to interfere or interrupt me!"
Producing another vial, larger than the first, he held it aloft and shook it, examining its contents with the closest scrutiny. The deeply interested and somewhat awed observers saw a bright green fluid flash in the sunlight. Satisfied with his examination, the Hebrew uncorked the vial; then, opening the patient's mouth, he poured the emerald liquid gradually down his throat, drop by drop. For some seconds after this no change in Massetti was perceptible. He still sat sleeping in his chair with his head bowed, and the ghastly hue of his visage remained unaltered. Dr. Absalom had again drawn his watch from his fob, dividing his attention between noting the flight of time and intently observing the patient. So profound was the silence in the room that the regular tick of the watch was distinctly audible in all parts of it.