The door flew open with a bang. A sickly perfume swept out to them.
"Matches! matches, Rob! this way!"
They went stumbling in. Robert Cairn took out a box of matches—and struck one. His father was further along, in the centre building.
"Your knife, boy—quick! quick!"
As the dim light crept along the aisle between the orchids, Robert Cairn saw his father's horror-stricken face ... and saw a vivid green plant growing in a sort of tub, before which the doctor stood. Four huge, smooth, egg-shaped buds grew upon the leafless stems; two of them were on the point of opening, and one already showed a delicious, rosy flush about its apex.
Dr. Cairn grasped the knife which Robert tremblingly offered him. The match went out. There was a sound of hacking, a soft swishing, and a dull thud upon the tiled floor.
As another match fluttered into brief life, the mysterious orchid, severed just above the soil, fell from the tub. Dr. Cairn stamped the swelling buds under his feet. A profusion of colourless sap was pouring out upon the floor.
Above the intoxicating odour of the place, a smell like that of blood made itself perceptible.
The second match went out.
"Another—"