"I have." He came slowly forward. "Felix, once more----"
"Give it me. Not another word!" Drelincourt held out his hand, and Rodd had no choice save to do as he was told. Drelincourt's features were lighted up by a faint smile. "Why this childish puling?" he asked. "Why this sudden faint heartedness? You know well how it was agreed between us years ago that this should be my way of escape when none other was left me."
Rodd resumed his seat without replying, and letting his elbows rest on the table, covered his face with his hands. Drelincourt held the vial up to the light.
"Even in the tiny compass of this the Great Destroyer finds room to lurk. 'Swift and painless,' were the words of the Italian savant when he put it into my hands. Swift--and--painless. It is well. Now I am prepared."
Rodd turned on him a face charged with tragic intensity.
"You will not do this thing just yet--if it must be done at all?" he pleaded.
"Not today certainly--nor yet tomorrow. I have much to see to first. Besides, this is my daughter's festa, and no faintest shadow of a cloud shall mar its brightness. In years to come, when she is a happy wife, and when the trouble which is now closing round her shall be nothing but a memory, I would fain have her be able to look back on this day as one of unclouded happiness."
"And Mrs. Drelincourt?"
"Ah! Now you stab me. Now you all but unman me. Why did you mention her name?"
He got up abruptly, his hands clinched, his features working. Scarcely ever before had Rodd seen him so moved.