Immelan gazed at it, and the sweat stood out upon his forehead.
"My God!" he muttered.

"There was a queer taste! I thought that it was aniseed!" "There was nothing in that glass," the Prince declared, "which the greatest chemist who ever breathed could detect as poison, yet you will die, my friend Immelan, without any doubt.

Shall I tell you how?
Would you know in what manner the pains will come?
No?
But, my friend, you disappoint me! You showed so much courage an hour ago.Listen.Feel for a swelling just behind--Ah!" Immelan was already across the room.

The Prince touched a bell, the doors were opened.

Ghastly pale, his head swimming, the tortured man dashed out into the street.