“And then a few landmarks, scattered here and there.  First, the fair damsel’s ring, with a blade of grass twisted round it; farther on a flower without its petals; farther on the marks of five fingers in the ground; next, the sign of the cross.’  No mistaking them, was there?  Once you thought me fool enough to give Florence time to play Hop-o’-my-Thumb’s game, it was bound to lead you straight to the mouth of the well, to the clods of turf which I dabbed across it, last month, in anticipation of this windfall.

“Remember:  ‘The snare is laid.’  And a snare after my own style, Lupin; one of the best!  Oh, I love getting rid of people with their kind assistance.  We work together like friends and partners.  You’ve caught the notion, haven’t you?

“I don’t do my own job.  The others do it for me, hanging themselves or giving themselves careless injections—­unless they prefer the mouth of a well, as you seem to do, Lupin.  My poor old chap, what a sticky mess you’re in!  I never saw such a face, never, on my word!  Florence, do look at the expression on your swain’s mobile features!”

He broke off, seized with a fit of laughter that shook his outstretched arm, imparted the most savage look to his face, and set his legs jerking under his body like the legs of a dancing doll.  His enemy was growing weaker before his eyes.  Don Luis’s fingers, which had first gripped the roots of the grass, were now vainly clutching the stones of the wall.  And his shoulders were sinking lower and lower into the well.

“We’ve done it!” spluttered the villain, in the midst of his convulsions of merriment.  “Lord, how good it is to laugh!  Especially when one so seldom does.  Yes, I’m a wet blanket, I am; a first-rate man at a funeral!  You’ve never seen me laugh, Florence, have you?  But this time it’s really too amusing.  Lupin in his hole and Florence in her grotto; one dancing a jig above the abyss and the other at her last gasp under her mountain.  What a sight!

“Come, Lupin, don’t tire yourself!  What’s the use of those grimaces?  You’re not afraid of eternity, are you?  A good man like you, the Don Quixote of modern times!  Come, let yourself go.  There’s not even any water in the well to splash about in.  No, it’s just a nice little slide into infinity.  You can’t so much as hear the sound of a pebble when you drop it in; and just now I threw a piece of lighted paper down and lost sight of it in the dark.  Brrrr!  It sent a cold shiver down my back!

“Come, be a man.  It’ll only take a moment; and you’ve been through worse than that! ...  Good, you nearly did it then.  You’re making up your mind to it....  I say, Lupin! ...  Lupin! ...  Aren’t you going to say good-bye?  Not a smile, not a word of thanks?  Au revoir, Lupin, an revoir—­”

He ceased.  He watched for the appalling end which he had so cleverly prepared and of which all the incidents were following close on one another in accordance with his inflexible will.