"Too bad," he said. Then his gaze swung to Argo.
There was on Tarrano's face and in his voice an expression, a tone quite new to me. A quiet grimness. More than that. A quality of deadliness--of inexorable deadliness which could well have chilled the stoutest heart that fronted it.
"Come here, Argo." Tarrano stood quite motionless. "Argo!"
Argo was on the floor. Shaking with terror--for he, probably better than any of us, understood what was coming--dragged himself to Tarrano's feet.
Argo's legs would barely support him, but he struggled to get himself erect. With a wrench, Tarrano tore the robe from Argo's chest.
In Tarrano's hand I saw a needle-like piece of steel. A dagger, yet it was more like a needle.
Tarrano had stabbed it gently into the man's chest. A mere prick into the flesh, and a tiny drop of blood oozed out.
For a moment Argo stood swaying. Eyes white-rimmed with mortal terror as he stupidly looked down at the drop of blood. A moment, then the injected poison took effect. He tottered, flung his arms above his head and fell. Lay writhing an instant; then twitching; and then quite still.
Tarrano turned away, his face impassive. "Unfortunate. He was a good man in many ways--I shall be sorry to lose his services." He saw me with my arm around Elza, and he frowned.
Instinctively, involuntarily--and I hated myself for it--I dropped my arm.
Tarrano turned from me. "He is not dead--but he will die. There is nothing we can do. I'm very sorry--very sorry indeed."
A sincere regret was in his tone. We lifted Wolfgar up, carried him to a depression in the floor by the wall--a shallow, couch-like bowl half-filled with down.
On the floor we gathered, seated on cushions; and presently Wolfgar regained consciousness. His face was not burned. It lighted with a dazed smile; and his eyes, searching us, picked out Maida.
His voice was low and labored; and at once his eyes closed again as though the effort of speaking were too great.
Maida was sitting near me at Wolfgar's head, bending over him. She had recovered from her terror of Argo; and as she leaned down, gazing at the dying Wolfgar, I think I have never seen so gentle, so compassionate an expression upon the face of any woman.