purely instinctive, but I suppose some such thought was running
through my head."

"Well, the poison that existed in Florence five centuries ago, exists
here to-day. There's the proof of it," and Godfrey pointed to the
body.

Hughes drew a deep breath of wonder and horror.

"But what sort of devilish instrument is it?" he cried, his nerves
giving way for an instant, his voice mounting shrilly. "Above all,
who wields it?"

He stared about the room, as though half-expecting to see some mighty
and remorseless arm poised, ready to strike. Then he shook himself
together.

"I beg pardon," he said, mopping the sweat from his face; "but I'm
not used to this sort of thing; and I'm frightened--yes, I really
believe I'm frightened," and he laughed, a little unsteady laugh.

"So am I," said Godfrey; "so is Lester; so is everybody. You needn't
be ashamed of it."

"What frightens me," went on Hughes, evidently studying his own
symptoms, "is the mystery of it--there is something supernatural
about it--something I can't understand. How does it happen that each
of the victims is struck on the right hand? Why not the left hand?
Why the hand at all?"

Godfrey answered with a despairing shrug.

"That is what we've got to find out," he said.

"We shall have to call in the police," suggested Hughes. "Maybe they
can solve it."

Godfrey smiled, a little sceptical smile, quickly suppressed.

"At least, they will have to be given the chance," he agreed. "Shall
I attend to it?"

"Yes," said Hughes; "and you would better do it right away. The
sooner they get here the better."

"Very well," assented Godfrey, and left the room.

Hughes sat down heavily on the couch near the window, and mopped his
face again, with a shaking hand. Death he was accustomed to--but
death met decently in bed and resulting from some understood cause.
Death in this horrible and mysterious form shook him; he could not
understand it, and his failure to understand appalled him. He was a
physician; it was his business to understand; and yet here was death
in a form as mysterious to him as to the veriest layman. It compelled
him to pause and take stock of himself--always a disconcerting
process to the best of us!

That was a trying half hour. Hughes sat on the couch, breathing
heavily, staring at the floor, perhaps passing his own ignorance in
review, perhaps wondering if he had always been right in prescribing
this or that. As for me, I was thinking of my