The Dead Assassin

CHAPTER 31 A TOAST TO DEATH

The Fog Committee sat convened around the long table in the great hall of DeVayne’s ancestral seat for what they all hoped would be the final time.

DeVayne rose from his chair at the head of the long feasting table and addressed the assemblage of dour-faced members. “Gentlemen, we are mere hours away from writing our names in the history books.” He raised his hand and snapped his fingers. The masked servants, who had been standing silently around the edges of the room, moved forward, bearing trays with crystal goblets and sparkling decanters filled with the green liquor. DeVayne seized a glass and bade the other members to follow suit. “Such a momentous occasion calls for a toast.”

“A toast to what?” the judge asked.

“A toast to death,” DeVayne answered, and added, “the death of the old regime and the birth of a new British republic.”

“What is this concoction?” asked the old admiral, eyeing the deep jade drink with obvious doubt.

“The libation of the gods,” DeVayne answered. “A drink for those who dare ascend the steps of Olympus. Come, join me in a toast to our great enterprise.”

The others took up their glasses, but no one drank.

DeVayne noticed their reluctance and sighed in exasperation. “Honestly, gentlemen, do you think I would poison you at this juncture? When we stand upon the threshold of victory?” To demonstrate, he quaffed his drink in one long gulp and thrust the goblet at the servant who quickly refilled it. “A toast, gentlemen. In just a few hours, the world will change for us all.” He smiled. “A toast to the new republic.”

All the members of the Fog Committee rose and reached across the table, to chink glasses.

“To the new republic!”