At the thought he shivered again, and
his face turned grey. He moved away a step, and then inspiration brought
him a cruel ruse. He uttered a cry.
"What is that?" he exclaimed, his eyes on the ground.
In an instant Aventano was beside him, for his voice had sounded alarmed
--a tone, in his present condition, not difficult to simulate.
"What, Excellency?"
"Down there," cried Gonzaga excitedly. "There from that fissure in the
stone. Saw you nothing?" And he pointed to the ground at a spot where
two slabs met.
"I saw nothing, Illustrious."
"It was like a flash of yellow light below there. What is under us here?
I'll swear there's treachery at work. Get down on your knees, and try if
anything is to be seen."
With a wondering glance at the courtier's white, twitching face, the
unfortunate young man went down on all fours to do his bidding. After
all--poor fellow!--he was hardly intelligent as Fortemani opined.
"There is nothing, Excellency," he said. "The plaster is cracked.
But---- Ah!"
In a panic of haste Gonzaga had whipped the dagger from its sheath and
sunk it into the middle of Aventano's broad back. The fellow's arms slid
out, and with a long-drawn, gurgling sigh he sank down and stretched
himself horribly on the stones.
In that instant the clouds parted overhead and the sun came out in a
blaze of golden glory. High above Gonzaga's head a lark burst into song.
For a moment the assassin remained standing above the body of his victim
with head sunk between the shoulders like a man who expects a blow, his
face grey, his teeth chattering, and his mouth twitching hideously.
Pages:
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312