It will be
readily seen that by swaying his rope at a height mine host could
drop on any part of the bed. Rodriguez as he watched him saw him
scrutinise closely and continue to sway on his rope. He feared
that mine host was ill satisfied with the look of the mandolin and
that he would climb away again, well warned of his guest's
astuteness, into the heights of the ceiling to devise some
fearfuller scheme; but he was only looking for the shoulder. And
then mine host dropped; poniard first, he went down with all his
weight behind it and drove it through the bolster below where the
shoulder should be, just where we slant our arms across our
bodies, when we lie asleep on our sides, leaving the ribs exposed:
and the soft bed received him. And the moment that mine host let
go of his rope Rodriguez leaped to his feet. He saw Rodriguez,
indeed their eyes met as he dropped through the air, but what
could mine host do? He was already committed to his stroke, and
his poniard was already deep in the mattress when the good
Castilian blade passed through his ribs.
THE SECOND CHRONICLE
HOW HE HIRED A MEMORABLE SERVANT
When Rodriguez woke, the birds were singing gloriously. The sun
was up and the air was sparkling over Spain. The gloom had left
his high chamber, and much of the menace had gone from it that
overnight had seemed to bode in the corners. It had not become
suddenly tidy; it was still more suitable for spiders than men, it
still mourned and brooded over the great family that it had nursed
and that evil days had so obviously overtaken; but it no longer
had the air of finger to lips, no longer seemed to share a secret
with you, and that secret Murder.
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