With a caution that was not to be expected from the agitation of his mind, he opened each door successively, in order to be certain that no eyes were gazing upon him.
Then, with the greatest rapidity, he took down the bottle, drew the cork with his teeth, and dropped into the wine, not one, but two or three pinches of the contents of the little vial.

He shook the bottle gently, to facilitate the dissolution of the powder.

A few particles of the poison clung to the lip of the bottle; he wiped off these, not with a napkin, a pile of which lay on the shelf beside him, but with his own handkerchief.

He replaced the bottle in its accustomed place, and seating himself by the fire, awaited the course of events.
At this moment the Duke de Champdoce was coming up the avenue at a rapid pace.

For the first time, perhaps, in his life, this man perceived that one of his last acts had been insensate and foolish in the extreme.