“Shall we bind our eyes?” asked Dubarre. “I do not know the glasses that hold the poison.”
“Nor I the bottle that held it. I will turn my back, and do you change about the glasses.”
Villiard turned his face towards the timepiece on the wall. As he did so it began to strike—a clear, silvery chime: “One! two! three—!”
Before it had finished striking both men were facing the glasses again.
“Take one,” said Dubarre.
Villiard took the one nearest himself. Dubarre took one also. Without a word they lifted the glasses and drank.
“Again,” said Dubarre.
“You choose,” responded Villiard.
Dubarre lifted the one nearest himself, and Villiard picked up the other. Raising their glasses again, they bowed to each other and drank.
The watch struck twelve, and stopped its silvery chiming.