g hoarse cries of pain,
he managed to take from his pocket and put to his lips a phial out of
which he greedily drank two or three mouthfuls.

He at once revived, as though he had swallowed warmth and strength. His
eyes grew calmer, his mouth shaped itself into a horrible smile. He
turned to Florence and said:

"Don't flatter yourself, pretty one; I'm not gone yet, and I've plenty of
time to attend to you. And then, after that, there'll be no more worries,
no more of that scheming and fighting that wears one out. A nice, quiet,
uneventful life for me! ... With a hundred millions one can afford to
take life easy, eh, little girl? ... Come on, I'm feeling much better!"

CHAPTER TWENTY

FLORENCE'S SECRET

It was time for the second act of the tragedy. Don Luis Perenna's death
was to be followed by that of Florence. Like some monstrous butcher, the
cripple passed from one to the other with no more compassion than if he
were dealing with the oxen in a slaughter-house.

Still weak in his limbs, he dragged himself to where the girl lay,
took a cigarette from a gun-metal case, and, with a final touch of
cruelty, said:

"When this cigarette is quite burnt out, Florence, it will be your turn.
Keep your eyes on it. It represents the last minutes of your life reduced
to ashes. Keep your eyes on it, Florence, and think.

"I want you to understand this: all the owners of the estate, and old
Langernault in particular, have always considered that the heap of rocks
and stones overhanging your head was bound to fall to pieces sooner or
later. And I myself, for years, with untiring patience, believing in a
favourable opportunity, have amused myself by making it crumble away
still more, by undermining it with the rain water, in short, by working
at it in such a way that, upon my word, I can't make out how the thing
keeps standing at all. Or, rather, I do understand.

"The few strokes with the pickaxe which I gave it just now were merely
intended for a warning. But I have only to give one more stroke in the
right place, and knock out a little brick wedged in between two lumps of
stone, for the whole thing to tumble to the ground like a house of cards.

"A little brick, Florence," he chuckled, "a tiny little brick which
chance placed there, between two blocks of stone, and has kept in
position until now. Out comes the brick, down come the blocks, and
there's your catastrophe!"

He took breath and continued:

"After tha