the marked paper undertakes the commission. All is quite fair, I say.
Only you know, I dare say, the common, the pitiful trick of the conjurer
who throws a pack of cards on the table, backs up. You take one, look at
it privately, return it, and the cards are shuffled. Without lifting the
cards at all he tells you that the one you selected was the eight of
diamonds: why? It is no miracle: all the cards are eight of diamonds;
though you, you poor innocent, do not know that. It is a wretched
trick," added Calabressa, coolly.

Reitzei drank off the remainder of his soda-water at a gulp. He stared
at Calabressa in silence, afraid to speak.

"My dear friend Reitzei," said Calabressa, at length raising his eyes
and fixing them on his companion, "you could not be so insane as to play
any trick like that?--having four pieces of paper, for example, all
marked red, the marks under the paper? You would not enter into any such
conspiracy, for you know, friend Reitzei, that the punishment
is--death!"

The man had turned a ghastly gray-green color. He was apparently choking
with thirst, though he had just finished the soda-water. He could not
speak.

Calabressa calmly waited for him; but in his heart he was saying
exultingly, "_Ha! the dagger quivers in the board: his eyes are starting
from his head; is it Calabressa or Cagliostro that has paralyzed him?_"

At length the wretched creature opposite him gasped out,

"Beratinsky--"

But he could say no more. He motioned to a waiter to bring him some
soda-water.

"Yes, Beratinsky?" said Calabressa, calmly regarding the livid face.

"--has betrayed us!" he said, with trembling lips. In fact, there was no
fight in him at all, no angry repudiation; he was helpless with this
sudden bewilderment of fear.

"Not quite," said Calabressa; and he now spoke in a low, eager voice.
"It is for you to save yourself by forestalling him. It is your one
chance; otherwise the decree; and good-bye to this world for you!
See--look at this card--I say it is your only chance, friend
Reitzei--for I am empowered by the Council to promise you, or
Beratinsky, or any one, a free pardon on confession. Oh, I assure you
the truth is clear: has not one eyes? You, poor devil, you cannot speak:
shall I go to Beratinsky and see whether he can speak?"

"What must I do--what must I do?" the other gasped, in abject terror.
Calabressa, regarding this exhibition of cowardice, could not help
wondering how Lind had