He led her forward, to the little marble-topped table where stood the wine and glasses.
She saw that the corks were both drawn from the bottles, and taking up one she poured some of its contents into the richly-chased glass beside it.
"Now pour from the second bottle into the second glass," commanded her husband.
Xenie silently obeyed him, without a thought as to the strangeness of the request, for her heart was beating almost to suffocation with the bitter consciousness of her enemy's presence.
Mr. St. John watched her every motion with a strange, repressed excitement.
His eyes glittered, his lips worked as if he were talking to himself. He nodded to his nephew as she stepped back.
"Let us drink long life and happiness to Mrs. St. John," he said.
Howard Templeton took one glass, and his uncle took the remaining one.
Both bowed to the shrinking woman who stood watching them, drained their glasses, and set them back with a simultaneous clink upon the marble table.
Then a wild, maniacal laugh filled the room—so shrill, so exultant, so blood-curdling, it froze the blood in the veins of the man and woman who stood there listening.