The first place the men visited was a low drinking saloon, situated on a street considered hardly reputable. It was not long before they became noisy and drunk.
One by one they staggered out of the drinking-saloon. Among the last to go was Antonio. He had probably drank more than any of his comrades, but he had a strong head, and showed his potations less in his gait than many of the rest. He walked out with a steady step, somewhat to the disappointment of the Brazilian, who had been keeping vigilant guard, and relied upon the effects of the liquor to make him an easier conquest.
It was already dark, but the street was too public, and he would be too liable to interruption and detection to make it prudent to attack at present. He therefore cautiously followed Antonio, hoping that he would presently turn into some narrow lane or alley.
In this hope he was not disappointed. At a little distance there was a narrow alley leading from the street in which Antonio was now walking to another of equal size. Antonio stood a little doubtful at the entrance, but finally entered. If he had only known that there was one close upon his heels, who was tracking him with the keenness of an Indian upon the trail of his foeman, he might have hesitated before entering what, to him, was destined to prove "the pass of death."
But he did not know this.
The alley was a long one, little frequented at that hour, and unlighted. Cautiously behind the doomed sailor walked the hired assassin. And now Antonio is nearly midway. Between them there is a distance of fifty feet. Over this interval creeps the murderer with noiseless feet. Then, snatching the ever-ready knife from his girdle, he lifts his hand, and the descending knife is buried in the back of Antonio, entering just below his neck. He sank to the ground with a convulsive shudder, and a sharp cry of pain.
The Brazilian stood over him. Antonio looked up into his face, supposing it might be Bill Sturdy, whose enmity he judged by his own.
And the thought came to him.
Half lifting himself from the ground with his last remaining strength, he ejaculated, feebly, "Were you hired to do this?"
"I was," said the assassin, briefly.