XX. — THE CUP OF TEA.
“The door opened as I uttered the words, and my old major-domo—gray haired, and an heir-loom, so to say, of the family—bowed low, and announced that tea was served and madam waiting.
“I rose and looked into the mirror above the fireplace. I was pale, but not sufficiently so to excite suspicion; and with a smile which frightened Nighthawk, took my way toward the supper-room.
“Madam was awaiting me, as I suspected, and I had never seen her look more radiant. A single glance told me that she had made an elaborate toilet in honor of—my funeral! Her dark hair was in shining braids; her eyes sparkled with joy; her parted lips showed her white teeth;—the only evidence I saw of concealed emotion was in the bloodless cheeks. They were as white as the lace falling over her superb silk dress.
“‘You see you keep me waiting!’ she said, with playful naiveté, ‘and your tea is growing cold, sir—which is worse for me than for you, as you do not care, but I care for you!’
“And as I passed her, she drew me playfully toward her, dragged me down, and held up her lips. I touched them with my own; they were as cold as ice, or the cheek my own face just touched in passing. I went to the table; took my seat; and madam poured out the tea, with a covert glance toward me. I was not looking at her, but I saw it.
“A moment afterward, the old waiter presented me the small gilt cup, smoking, fragrant, and inviting.
“I took it, looking, as before, out of the corner of my eye at madam. She was leaning forward, watching me with a face as pale as death. I could hear her teeth chatter.
“I placed the cup to my lips;—her hand, holding a spoon, trembled so that the spoon beat a tattoo on her saucer. She was watching me in breathless suspense; and all at once I turned full toward her.
“‘The taste of this tea is singular,’ I said, ‘I should call it very bad.’
“‘Oh, it is—excellent!’ she muttered, between her chattering teeth.
“‘The cup you send me is certainly wretched. Do me the pleasure to taste it, madam.’
“And depositing it upon the waiter of the old servant, I said:—
“‘Take this to your mistress.’
“He did so; she just touched it with her lips, her hand trembling, then replaced it upon the waiter.
“‘I perceive nothing disagreeable,’ she murmured.
“‘Swallow a mouthful,’ I said, with a bitter smile.
“She looked at me with sudden intentness. Her eyes, full of wild inquiry, seemed attempting to read into my very soul.
“‘Perhaps you object to drinking after me, as the children say,’ I added—this time with a species of sneer, and a flash of the eye, I think.
“‘Oh, no!’ she exclaimed, with an attempt to laugh; ‘and to show you—’
“With a quick movement she attempted—as though by accident—to strike the waiter with her elbow, in order to overturn the cup.
“But the old servant was too well trained. The lady’s elbow struck the waiter, but the skilful attendant withdrew it quickly. Not a drop of the tea was spilled.
“A moment afterward I was beside madam.
“‘I pray you to drink,’ I said.
“‘I can not—I feel unwell,’ she murmured, cowering beneath the fire in my eye.
“‘I beg you to drink from this cup.’
“‘I have told you—I will not.’
“‘I beseech you to humor me, madam. Else I shall regard you as a murderess!’
“She rose suddenly.
“‘Your meaning, sir!’ she exclaimed, as pale as death.
“I took the cup and poured the tea into a saucer. At the bottom was a modicum of white powder, undissolved. I poured the tea into the cup again—then a second time into the saucer. This time nothing remained—and I proceeded to pour cream into the saucer, until it was filled. Madam watched me with distended eyes, and trembling from head to foot. Then suddenly she uttered a cry—a movement of mine had caused the cry.
“I had gone to the fire where a cat was reposing upon the rug, and placed the saucer before her. In two minutes its contents had disappeared down the throat of the cat. Five minutes afterward the animal was seized with violent convulsions—uttered unearthly cries—tore the carpet with its claws—glared around in a sort of despair—rolled on its back, beat the air with its paws—and expired.
“I turned to madam, who was gazing at me with distended eyes, and pointing to the cat, said:—
“‘See this unfortunate animal, madam! Her death is curious. She has died in convulsions, in consequence of drinking a cup of tea!’”