He
watched him patiently, hoping to find out the truth without
questions. At the same time, the hope of winning a few coppers
made him keep an eye on the game. To his surprise he won easily,
and he was further astonished when he saw that the miserly
Meschini was not inclined to complain of his losses nor to accuse
him of cheating.
"You are not lucky to-day," he remarked at last, when his winnings
amounted to a couple of pauls--a modern franc in all.
Meschini looked at him uneasily and wiped his brow, leaning back
in the rickety chair. His hands were trembling.
"No," he answered. "I am not quite myself to-day. The fact is that
a most dreadful tragedy occurred in our house last night, the mere
thought of which gives me the fever. I am even obliged to take a
little stimulant from time to time."
So saying, he drew the bottle from his pocket and applied it to
his lips. He had hoped that it would not be necessary, but he was
unable to do without it very long, his nerves being broken down by
the quantity he had taken on the previous night. Colaisso looked
on in silence, more puzzled than ever. The librarian seemed to be
revived by the dose, and spoke more cheerfully after it.
"A most terrible tragedy," he said. "The prince was murdered
yesterday afternoon.
Pages:
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614
615
616
617
618
619
620