“To you.”
The man removed his hat and looked appealingly at Miss Rosie.
“Don’t let’s have a scene in here,” said Rosie, with her worldly wisdom. And, impelled by the utter seriousness of the man, we went out. I forgot the bill, and no one presented it.
“I solemnly ask you to take a little drive with me,” said the man, when we had reached the foyer. “I have a carriage at the door.”
“Again, why?” I demanded.
He whispered: “You are poisoned. I am saving your life. I rely on your discretion.”
My spine turned chilly, and I glanced at Miss Rosie. “I will come with you,” she said.
In five minutes we had driven to a large house in Golden Square. We were ushered into a lavishly-furnished drawing-room, and we sat down. Rosie’s lips were set. I admired her demeanour during those moments.
The man who said he was saving my life poured some liquid from a phial into a glass, and handed it to me.
“Emetics are useless. Drink this. In an hour you will feel the first symptoms of illness. They may be severe, though that is improbable, since you ate only a portion of the stuff. In any event, they will not last. To-morrow you will be perfectly well. Let me advise you to go to bed at once. My carriage is at your service and the service of this lady.” He bowed.