"Do you suspect a case of poisoning, doctor?"
"No, Sire, there are no traces of poisoning. But I am thinking . . . what's on that tray and in that cup?"
"Coffee," said the count.
"For you?"
"No, for him. I did not have any."
The doctor poured out some coffee, tasted it and said:
"I was right. He has been put to sleep with a narcotic."
"But by whom?" cried the Emperor, angrily. "Look here, Waldemar; it's exasperating, the way things happen in this place!"
"Sire? . . ."
"Well, yes, I've had enough of it! . . . I am really beginning to believe that the man's right and that there is some one in the castle. . . . That French money, that narcotic. . . ."