Again the change came into his face
which they had seen in the mirror. French dashed forward towards him. The
Professor snarled, seemed about to spring, then suddenly once more
stretched out his hands to show that he was helpless and handed to Quest
the paper upon which he had been writing.
"You have nothing to fear from me," he exclaimed. "Here is my last message
to you, Sanford Quest. Read it--read it aloud. Always remember that this
was not your triumph but mine."
Quest held up the paper. They all read. The Professor's letters were
carefully formed, his handwriting perfectly legible.
"You have been a clever opponent, Sanford Quest, but even now
you are to be cheated. The wisdom of the ages outreaches yours,
outreaches it and triumphs."
Quest looked up quickly.
"What the devil does he mean?" he muttered.
The Professor's arms shot suddenly above his head. Again that strange,
animal look convulsed his features. He burst into a loud, unnatural laugh.
"Mean, you fool?" he cried, holding out his wrist, which was slowly
turning black. "Poisoned! That is what it means!"
They all stared at him. Quest seized the ink bottle, revealed the false
top and laid it down again with a little exclamation. Then, before they
could realize it, the end came. The Professor lay, a crumpled-up heap,
upon the floor. The last change of all had taken place in his face. His
arms were outstretched, his face deathly white, his lips faintly curved in
the half amiable, half supercilious smile of the savant who sees beyond.
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