He failed, and, like many another man, that only made him
worse. When Monsieur Haxton was sent to Assouan, by a new company,
Alfieri went there, too. It was at that time I found the papers which
tell about the treasure--"
"How do you know they tell about the treasure?" broke in Fenshawe.
"Because I stole them from Monsieur Haxton," was the cool reply. "I had
sold them to Monsieur Alfieri, and he gave them to Madame's husband.
Monsieur le Baron was his doctor, and a friend, but, when he found out
how valuable those papers were, he hired me to secure them from
Monsieur Haxton's bureau while he slept. Unfortunately, there was an
accident. Monsieur Haxton was in a fever, and the doctor gave him a
sleeping draft. Monsieur Haxton took too much, and he never woke
again."
Fenshawe's face grew dark with anger.
"You scoundrel!" he cried. "Between you, you poisoned the man. I
recollect the incident now. I saw it in the papers at the time."
"You are wrong, Monsieur," said Abdullah calmly. "There was an inquiry,
and it was proved that the draft was only a strong one--quite harmless
if the doctor's written orders were obeyed.
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