Just above the knuckles were two tiny incisions, with a drop or two of blood oozing away from them, and the flesh about them swollen and discoloured.

“I knew what it was the instant he yelled ‘La mort!’” said Godfrey quietly.  “And he knew what it was the instant he felt the stroke.  It is evident enough that he had seen it used before, or heard of it, and knew that it meant instant death.”

I sat down, staring at the dead man, and tried to collect my senses.  So this fiendish criminal, who slew with poison, had been lurking in Vantine’s house, and had struck down first Drouet and then the master of the house himself!  But why—­why!  It was incredible, astounding, my brain reeled at the thought.  And yet it must be true!

I looked again at the third victim, and saw a man roughly dressed, with bushy black hair and tangled beard; a very giant of a man, whose physical strength must have been enormous—­and yet it had availed him nothing against that tiny pin-prick on the hand!

And then a sudden thought brought me bolt upright.

“But Armand!” I cried.  “Where is Armand?”

Godfrey looked at me with a half-pitying smile.

“What, Lester!” he said, “don’t you understand, even yet?  It was your fascinating M. Armand who did that,” and he pointed to the dead man.

I felt as though I had been struck a heavy blow upon the head; black circles whirled before my eyes....

“Go over to the window,” said Godfrey, peremptorily, “and get some fresh air.”

Mechanically I obeyed, and stood clinging to the window-sill, gazing down at the busy street, where the tide of humanity was flowing up and down, all unconscious of the tragedy which had been enacted so close at hand.  And, at last, the calmness of all these people, the sight of the world going quietly on as usual, restored me a portion of my self-control.  But even yet I did not understand.

“Was it Armand,” I asked, turning back into the room, “who lay there in the corner?”

“Certainly it was,” Godfrey answered.  “Who else could it be?”

“Godfrey!” I cried, remembering suddenly.  “Did you see his eyes as he lay there watching the man at the cabinet?”

“Yes; I saw them.”

“They were the same eyes....”

“The same eyes.”

“And the laugh—­did you hear that laugh?”

“Certainly I heard it.”

“I heard it once before,” I said, “and you thought it was a case of nerves!”

I fell silent a moment, shivering a little at the remembrance.

“But why did Armand lie there so quietly?” I asked, at last.  “Was he injured?”

Godfrey made a little gesture toward the corner.

“Go see for yourself,” he said.

Something lay along the wall, on the spot where I had seen that figure, and as I bent over it, I saw that it was a large net, finely meshed but very strong.