Kennedy laughed, rather pleased at having beaten me.
"Never mind, Walter," he said with a smile, "I'll take it. And er—I don't think that Elaine will object if you play the host for a little while with Aunt Josephine," he hinted.
I saw that three was a crowd and I turned to retrace my steps to the drawing-room.
Kennedy, however, was not alone. Back of the palms in the conservatory two beady black eyes were eagerly watching. Long Sin had noted every movement as his cleverly laid plan miscarried.
Chatting with animation, Kennedy tasted the ice. He had taken only a couple of spoonfuls when a look of wonder and horror seemed to spread over his face.
He rose quickly. A cold sweat seemed to break out all over him. His nerves almost refused to respond. His tongue seemed to be paralyzed and the muscles of his throat seemed to be like steel bands.
He took only a few steps, began to stagger, and finally sank down on the floor.
Elaine screamed.
We rushed in from the library and drawing-room. There lay Kennedy on the floor, his face most terribly contorted. We gathered around him and he tried to raise himself and speak, but seemed unable to utter a sound.
He had fallen near the fountain and one hand drooped over into the water. As he fell back he seemed to have only just enough strength to withdraw his hand from the fountain. On the stone coping, slowly and laboriously, he moved his finger.