He poured out a brimming glass and set it down in front of Luigi di Folengo, who sat shaking like a leaf, his drooping eyelid fluttering with strong excitement.
“I am to play to-night, with my friend the doctor here, a game for very high stakes, so I must keep my head clear; but to-morrow you may think of me as steeped in Pantinelli’s generous vine juice.”
As the Prince spoke the last sentence he took from the table-drawer a handsome gold-mounted revolver, which he held up to the light so that glittering rays darted from its polished barrel as he said to the trembling Luigi, “I also wish to present you this pistol, with which I have never missed a shot, and which has sent more than one of my enemies down the long road.”
While Fabriano spoke the man’s eyes anxiously searched the room for a means of escape, and finally came back to the calm face of the Prince. He glanced from the heavy amber liquor before him to the shining weapon with which Fabriano lovingly toyed, and then with a quiet heroism which Hardy could not help but admire, he raised the glass to his lips and drained it.
“And, raising the glass to his lips, he drained it.” (See page 86.)
He sat there for a minute or two, gazing stupidly at the empty glass. Then, of a sudden, he began to tremble violently; his teeth chattered, and great beads of perspiration stood upon his forehead. On his lips there came a yellowish foam, and he started to his feet, clawing at his breast as if it were on fire, while a hoarse, cackling noise came from his throat. Dr. Hardy knew that the man must be suffering terribly, and, guilty as he believed him to be, could only pity.
Rocking to and fro, Folengo threw himself upon the floor, where he lay writhing and twisting in his death agony. His face turned black, and his eyes started from his head, like those of a strangled man. After that he lay quite still.
Dr. Hardy stooped and felt for the man’s heart. There was not the trace of a beat. He turned to the Prince, who had sat through the whole scene with a smiling face, and said, “You are amply avenged, Prince Fabriano. That man died the most terrible death I have witnessed in twenty years of practice.”
Fabriano, still smiling strangely, poured out two more glasses of the wine which the dead man had just drunk. “So be it with all assassins!” he said. “Drink to the downfall of my enemy!”