"President," he said, "you have laid your last snare, and your own
feet are taken in it. The day is beginning; it is your last
morning. You have just swum the Regent's Canal; it is your last
bathe in this world. Your old accomplice, Dr. Noel, so far from
betraying me, has delivered you into my hands for judgment. And
the grave you had dug for me this afternoon shall serve, in God's
almighty providence, to hide your own just doom from the curiosity
of mankind. Kneel and pray, sir, if you have a mind that way; for
your time is short, and God is weary of your iniquities."
The President made no answer either by word or sign; but continued
to hang his head and gaze sullenly on the floor, as though he were
conscious of the Prince's prolonged and unsparing regard.
"Gentlemen," continued Florizel, resuming the ordinary tone of his
conversation, "this is a fellow who has long eluded me, but whom,
thanks to Dr. Noel, I now have tightly by the heels. To tell the
story of his misdeeds would occupy more time than we can now
afford; but if the canal had contained nothing but the blood of his
victims, I believe the wretch would have been no drier than you see
him. Even in an affair of this sort I desire to preserve the forms
of honour. But I make you the judges, gentlemen - this is more an
execution than a duel and to give the rogue his choice of weapons
would be to push too far a point of etiquette.
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