He lifted
Meschini bodily from the chair and set him against the table,
holding him up at arm's length, his deep eyes blazing with a rage
that would soon be uncontrollable. Meschini's naturally strong
constitution did not afford him the relief of fainting.
"You killed him--why?" asked San Giacinto through his teeth,
scarcely able to speak.
"For you, for you--oh, have mercy--do not--"
"Silence!" cried the giant in a voice that shook the vault of the
hall. "Answer me or I will tear your head from your body with my
hands! Why do you say you killed him for me?"
Meschini trembled all over, and then his contorted face grew
almost calm. He had reached that stage which may be called the
somnambulism of fear. The perspiration covered his skin in an
instant, and his voice sank to a distinct whisper.
"He made me forge the deeds, and would not pay me for them. Then I
killed him."
"What deeds?"
"The deeds that have made you Prince Saracinesca. If you do not
believe me, go to my room, the originals are in the cupboard. The
key is here, in my right-hand pocket."
He could not move to get it, for San Giacinto held him fast, and
watched every attempt he made at a movement. His own face was
deathly pale, and his white lips were compressed together.
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