"Certainly," said Roccas. "But please see that it does not take longer than that."
Guelvada said: "Here it is..."
He brought his left hand from behind his back in a melodramatic gesture. In one movement, he dropped the hat, brought his right hand round, flicked his wrist upwards and forwards. The point of the knife hit Roccas just above the Adam's apple. The blade penetrated its complete four inches.
Guelvada said: "I have always been very expert with a knife. I learnt that art in your country, Senhor."
Roccas was on his knees on the carpet, the pistol fallen from his hand. He knelt, his body supported on his two hands held before him, waving his head from side to side. As he fell sideways, he tore at the hilt of the knife. He lay for a few seconds, writhing. It was not a pleasant sigh
