“Yes, here it is! This small phial and this piece of paper again represent the life of a man.”
“You were surprised in the act?”
“Yes. And I have killed again.”
“Who is the victim this time?” exclaimed Sophia, pale as death.
“Do not alarm yourself, my dear; it is not your turtledove.”
He gave Cesare a glance, which immediately put the Italian on the alert. His light, careless attitude disappeared, and a cold, hard look came into his face.
“It was a troublesome fellow I have had on my track for several days,” continued Hans. “A Government spy. It was not the first time we had met, either. He almost caught me three years ago at Lyons, in the affair of the Sergeant-Major. I took good note of him at the time, and his account is now settled!”
“But will his murder not be discovered?”
“What then? We must clear off at once; the authorities never trouble about detectives, that you know very well. This one will undergo a curing process, with his broken head, in the river, until he is fished out. Meanwhile, we shall be on the other side of the frontier.”
Milona entered, carrying a suit of elegant-looking clothes, a grey felt hat, and yellow shoes. Unceremoniously, Hans dressed himself.