With creeping flesh, I looked again at the outer door, waiting who
would enter. And slowly, slowly, the drapery was put aside, and a face
peered in. I could see its flashing eyes and working mouth. A hand, in
which a knife gleamed, was raised cautiously to the cord, and when it
was lowered, it held a piece of the cord within its grasp. I could see
the eager fingers fashioning a knot; then, with head bent, the figure
crept forward, foot by foot; it was at the chair-back, and even as
the old man, conscious at last of the intruder, raised his head, the
cord was cast about his throat and drawn tight. There was a moment's
struggle, and I saw that the hand which held the cord was red with
blood. From the wrist, a stained handkerchief fell softly to the
floor.
And then the assassin turned to steal away; but as he went, he cast
one awful glance over his shoulder. The light fell full upon his
face--and I saw that it was Swain's!
* * * * *
I opened my eyes to find myself extended full length on the divan,
with Silva standing over me, a tiny glass of yellow liquid in his
hand.
"Drink this," he said, and I swallowed it obediently.
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