"Yes, but with another poison not of home manufacture. Eh! what would you, Hugo, the Contessa was not going to be thwarted by a husband who kept his laboratory locked. However, he tricked her over this particular poison, for he either gave instructions that it was to be put into his coffin without the knowledge of his dear wife, or he hid it himself in the vault, as he hinted to me one day he intended to do." "There's no doubt then that the Contessa went to the vault for the poison; but what about the antidote? Is it in your possession?" "Unfortunately, no, mon ami. I was ordered away from Verona, and gave back the antidote to the Count; but on my return here, I heard casually that he had left a letter for me, to be delivered after his death. I went to Rome, where the Contessa was one of the ornaments of the Court, and asked for the letter. Of course she denied ever having heard of it." "And what do you think was in this letter?" "Eh! ma foi, I believe it told me where the poison was hidden in the vault, and that our dear Contessa found the letter, went to the vault on the night you saw her and obtained the poison." "Also the antidote?" "Dame! I'm not so sure of that. I knew about the antidote so well that I don't think Morone would have mentioned it in the letter, in case it should meet the eye of his wife. No! No! mon ami! she has the poison, of course; but the antidote, I believe it is still in the vault, where we will look for it." "For what reason?" "Diamine! to revive this devil of a tenor who has had the misfortune to take ten drops of the Signora Morone's mixture." "But where is Pallanza?" "All in good time, Hugo, all in good time. I must tell you the rest of the story first." "I am all impatience, Beltrami." The Marchese, I saw, was enjoying this conversation, as the subject-matter was of an involved and difficult character which appealed to the subtleties of his Italian nature; and the chance of playing a part in this intrigue, worthy of the Court of Lorenzo di Medici, delighted him beyond measure. He was, as I have said before, an anachronism, and this everyday, commonplace life of the nineteenth century offered no field for the exercise of his cunning brain and delicate diplomacy, which revelled in those bizarre complications, full of sophistry and double meanings, which distinguished the intricate statecraft of the Italian republics.