We had tea in Lady Ragnall’s boudoir and after it had been taken away our conversation died. She sat there on the other side of the fire with a cigarette between her lips, looking at me through the perfumed smoke till I began to grow uncomfortable and to feel that a crisis of some sort was at hand. This proved perfectly correct, for it was. Presently she said,
“We took a long journey once together, Mr. Quatermain, did we not?”
“Undoubtedly,” I answered, and began to talk of it until she cut me short with a wave of her hand, and went on,
“Well, we are going to take a longer one together after dinner to-night.”
“What! Where! How!” I exclaimed much alarmed.
“I don’t know where, but as for how—look in that box,” and she pointed to a little carved Eastern chest made of rose or sandal wood, that stood upon a table between us.
With a groan I rose and opened it. Inside was another box made of silver. This I opened also and perceived that within lay bundles of dried leaves that looked like tobacco, from which floated an enervating and well-remembered scent that clouded my brain for a moment. Then I shut down the lids and returned to my seat.
“Taduki,” I murmured.
“Yes, Taduki, and I believe in perfect order with all its virtue intact.”
“Virtue!” I exclaimed. “I don’t think there is any virtue about that hateful and magical herb which I believe grew in the devil’s garden. Moreover, Lady Ragnall, although there are few things in the world that I would refuse you, I tell you at once that nothing will induce me to have anything more to do with it.”