"
"And it will die with him," affirmed the attendant.
"Couldn't you, Gaydon, get him to talk about his fulgurator?" asked
his chief.
"I will try, if you order me to do so, sir."
"Well, I do order you, for I think it might interest the Count
d'Artigas."
"Certainly," assented the Count, whose physiognomy betrayed no sign of
the sentiments which were agitating him.
"I ought to warn you that I risk bringing on another fit," observed
Gaydon.
"You can drop the conversation when you consider it prudent. Tell
Thomas Roch that a foreigner wishes to negotiate with him for the
purchase of his fulgurator."
"But are you not afraid he may give his secret away?" questioned the
Count.
He spoke with such vivacity that Gaydon could not restrain a glance of
distrust, which, however, did not appear to disturb the equanimity of
that impenetrable nobleman.
"No fear of that," said the warder. "No promise would induce him to
divulge his secret. Until the millions he demands are counted into his
hand he will remain as mute as a stone."
"I don't happen to be carrying those millions about me," remarked the
Count quietly.
Gaydon again touched Roch on the shoulder and repeated:
"Thomas Roch, here are some foreigners who are anxious to acquire your
invention."
The madman started.
"My invention?" he cried. "My deflagrator?"
And his growing animation plainly indicated the imminence of the fit
that Gaydon had been apprehensive about, and which questions of this
character invariably brought on.
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