hand for us to see.

Just above the knuckles were two tiny incisions, with a drop or two
of blood oozing away from them, and the flesh about them swollen and
discoloured.

"I knew what it was the instant he yelled '_La mort!_'" said Godfrey
quietly. "And _he_ knew what it was the instant he felt the stroke.
It is evident enough that he had seen it used before, or heard of it,
and knew that it meant instant death."

I sat down, staring at the dead man, and tried to collect my senses.
So this fiendish criminal, who slew with poison, had been lurking in
Vantine's house, and had struck down first Drouet and then the master
of the house himself! But why--why! It was incredible, astounding, my
brain reeled at the thought. And yet it must be true!

I looked again at the third victim, and saw a man roughly dressed,
with bushy black hair and tangled beard; a very giant of a man, whose
physical strength must have been enormous--and yet it had availed him
nothing against that tiny pin-prick on the hand!

And then a sudden thought brought me bolt upright.

"But Armand!" I cried. "Where is Armand?"

Godfrey looked at me with a half-pitying smile.

"What, Lester!" he said, "don't you understand, even yet? It was your
fascinating M. Armand who did that," and he pointed to the dead man.