Can you attend
to the old people?" "They will be harmless. See that Franco does not have a chance to
escape. Here is the extra key to the door. I will go through before
twelve. When I am ready, I will open the door. If I am not out by one in
the morning, you come through with your police. Do we all understand?" "I understand," said the American consul. "But I still think you are
dreaming." Back at the villa, I again drugged the old people, not much, but enough
to insure their sleep that night. They liked me. I was liberal with my
gold, and I carelessly showed them where I kept my reserve. Then I went through the door. Again I heard the Donna Marchesi sing to
an audience that would never hiss her. She left, and I started to
distribute the files. From one blind wretch to the next I went,
whispering words of cheer and instruction for the next night. They were
to cut through a link in the chain, but in such a way that the Tiger Cat
would not suspect that they had gained their liberty. Were they pleased
to have a hope of freedom? I am not sure, but they were delighted at
another prospect. The next night I doubled the tips to the old servants. With tears of
gratitude in their eyes, they thanked me as they called me their dear
master. I put them to sleep as though they were babies. In fact, I
wondered at the time if they would ever recover from the dose of chloral
I gave them. I did not even bother to tie them, but just tossed them on
their beds. At half past ten, automobiles began to arrive with darkened lights. We
had a lengthy conference, and soon after eleven I went through the door. I lost no time in making sure that each of the blind mice was a free
man, but I insisted that they act as though bound till the proper time. They were trembling, but it was not from fear, not that time. Back in my hiding-place I waited, and soon I heard the singing voice. Ten minutes later the Donna Marchesi had her lantern hung on the nail. Ah! She was more beautiful that night than I had ever seen her. Dressed
in filmy white, her beautiful body, lovely hair, long lithe limbs would
have bound any man to her through eternity. She seemed to sense that
beauty, for, after giving out the first supply of rolls, she varied her
program. She told her audience how she had dressed that evening for
their special pleasure. She described her jewels and her costume. She
almost became grandiose as she told of her beauty, and, driving in the
dagger, she twisted it as she reminded them that never would they be
able to see her, never touch her or kiss her hand. All they could do was
to hear her sing, applaud and at last die. Of all the terrible things in her life that little talk to those blind
men was the climax. And then she sang. I watched her closely, and I saw what I suspected. She sang with her eyes closed. Was she in fancy seeming that she was in
an opera-house before thousands of spellbound admirers? Who knows? But
ever as she sang that night her eyes were closed, and even as she came
to a close, waiting for the usual applause, her eyes were closed. *       *       *       *       *

She waited in the silence for the clap of hands. It did not come. With
terrific anger, she whirled to her basket and reached for her whip. "Dogs!" she cried. "Have you so soon forgot your lesson?" And then she realized that the twenty blind men were closing in on her. They were silent, but their outstretched hands were feeling for
something that they wanted very much. Even when her whip started to cut,
they were silent. Then one man touched her. To her credit, there was no
sign of fear. She knew what had happened. She must have known, but she
was not afraid. Her single scream was nothing but the battle-cry of the
tiger cat going into action. There was a single cry, and that was all. The men reached for what they
wanted in silence. For a while they were all in a struggling group on
their feet, but soon they were all on the ground. It was simply a mass,
and under that mass was a biting, scratching, fighting, dying animal. I couldn't stand it. I had planned it all, I wanted it all to happen,
but when it came, I just couldn't stand it. Covered with the sweat of
fear, I ran to the door and unlocked it. I swung it open, went through
the doorway, closed it and locked it again. The men, waiting for me in
the cellar, looked on with doubt. It seemed that they were right in
thinking that my tale was an alcoholic one. "Give me whisky!" I gasped, as I dropped on the floor. In a few minutes I had recovered. "Open the door," I ordered. "And bring the blind men out." One at a time they were brought to the kitchen, and identified. Some
were terribly mutilated in the face, long deep scratches, and even
pieces bitten out, and one had the corner of his mouth torn. Most of
them were sobbing hysterically, but, in some way, though none said so, I
judged that they were all happy. We went back to the cellar and through the door. On the stone floor was
a clotted mass of red and white. "What's that?" asked the American consul. "I think that is the Donna Marchesi," I replied. "She must have met with