There was a sharp click, and a section of the
inlay fell outward, forming a handle, just as I had seen it do on the
other side of the desk. M. Pigot hesitated an instant--any man would
have hesitated before that awful risk!--then, catching the handle
firmly with his armoured hand, he drew it quickly out. There was a
sharp clash, as of steel on steel, and the drawer stood open.
CHAPTER XXV
THE MICHAELOVITCH DIAMONDS
M. Pigot, cool and imperturbable, held out to us, with a little
smile, a hand which showed not a quiver of emotion--his gauntleted
hand; and I saw that, on the back of it, were two tiny depressions.
At the bottom of each depression lay a drop of bright red liquid--
blood-red, I told myself, as I stared at it, fascinated. And what
nerves of steel this man possessed! A sudden warmth of admiration for
him glowed within me. "That liquid, gentlemen," he said in his
smooth voice, "is the most powerful poison ever distilled by man.
Those two tiny drops would kill a score of people, and kill them
instantly. Its odour betrays its origin"--and, indeed, the air was
heavy with the scent of bitter almonds--"but the poison ordinarily
derived from that source is as nothing compared with this.
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