“It might have been the juice of a plant?” was the tentative suggestion. “Yea, doubtless it was the juice of a plant,” with the air of one who had just remembered a forgotten fact.
“It might have been, but it was not.”
“It might have been some metal, or a deadly fruit, or the venom of a serpent?” the last with a cunning side-look at Georgia.
“No, it was none of those; but we are coming to the point. Hasten, O Khadija; my patience will not last for ever.”
“Could it have been the essence distilled from the dried body of—some beast?”
Georgia rose from her seat and turned away, but the old woman threw herself before her and clutched her dress.
“O my lady, was it the poison of a deadly fish?”
“Ah! now we are getting at the truth,” said Georgia, turning, but refusing to sit down again. “It was a fish, then; but how was the poison administered?”
“Surely the doctor lady knows all things. It would be vain if one should try to deceive her. There was but one small drop of the medicine, and it was to be given in a cup of coffee.”
“And it was carried for safety in the jewel of a ring, which was to be dropped into the coffee. Is it not so, Khadija? But we will speak of the Father of sleep again presently. Tell me now who it is that is ill in your house, and what the sickness is.”