Should she ring and try?
A few minutes’ thought, and the idea grew less and less vivid, till it died away.
“She dare not, even if she would,” thought Kate; and calmly and methodically she proceeded to make the tea, just casually noticing that the screw which held in its place the ornamental knob on the lid of the silver tea-pot had been off and was secured in its place again with what appeared to be resin.
It was a trifle which seemed to be of no importance then, as she turned on the hot water from the urn, rinsed out the pot made the tea and sat thinking while she gave it time to draw. Her thoughts were upon the old theme, the way of escape, or to find a way of sending letters to both Jenny and her uncle.
She started from her reverie, poured out a cupful, took up her book again, grew immersed in it, and sat back sipping her tea from time to time, till about half the cup was finished, before she noticed that it had a peculiar flavour, but concluded that it was fresh tea, and she had made it a little too strong.
The old German book was interesting, and she still read on and sipped her tea till she had finished the cup, and then sat frowning, for the last spoonful or two had the peculiar flavour intensified.
It was very strange. The tea was very different. She smelt the dregs in her cup, and the odour was strongly herbaceous.
She tasted it again, and it was stronger, while the flavour was now clinging to her palate.
She sat thinking for a few moments, laid her book aside, and let a little water from the urn flow into the spare cup, and examined it.
Pure and tasteless, just boiled water; there was nothing there; so she drew the pot to her side, opened the lid and smelt it.