apparently mad with rage. "If my master dies, you shall hang—hang, I say, or, if not, I shall kill you myself with these hands," and he extended his long claw-like fingers towards me.
At this moment Friende opened his eyes, and said in unsteady tones:
"What on earth is the matter? Have I been ill?"
"Only for a minute, sir," answered Jacques.
I stepped forward with the idea in my mind that I might perhaps be able to bluff things out, but Jacques jumped in front of me.
"You are not going near him till he knows why he was ill," he snarled.
Turning to his master, he said, pointing at me:
"That man put poison in your drink, sir. I saw him do it. I was watching the game from behind the door. It was he who made you ill, so that he might win ten pounds."
"It's a lie," I replied, looking savagely at Jacques, who was still breathing short from excitement. Humphrey Friende looked me straight in the face.
"Jacques has never told a lie yet, Dr. d'Escombe. May I ask you myself, did you put anything in my drink?"
I saw that the game was up, and replied:
