She telegraphed to the little doctor with her eyes, but in vain; he evaded summons after summons, and Mrs Bolter began to grow wroth. Suddenly she saw him give a bit of a start, and he seemed to be watching the slaves, who were carrying round trays of little china cups full of some native wine. Chumbley saw it too, and for a moment he felt excited, but directly after he laughed it off. "The doctor thinks that the Borgia dose is going round," he said to himself, but half aloud, and Grey caught a portion of his words and turned pale. "Borgia?" she faltered, turning to him. "Do you mean poison?" "Did you hear my words?" he said, quickly. "Oh, it was only nonsense." "But you think there is poison in those little cups, Mr Chumbley? Quick! stop him!" she gasped, with an agonised look. "Mr Hilton is going to drink. Too late! too late!" "Hush, Miss Stuart, be calm," whispered Chumbley; "you will draw attention to yourself. I tell you it is all nonsense: a foolish fancy. Here is a tray," he continued, as a slave came up. "Now see, I will drink one of these cupfuls to convince you." "And I will drink too!" she cried, excitedly; and Chumbley stared to see so much fire in one whom he had looked upon as being tame and quiet to a degree. "No; don't you drink," he said, in a low voice. "Then you do believe there is danger?" she said, excitedly. "I do and I do not," he replied, in the same low tone. "There," he said, tossing off the contents of the cup, which was filled with a delicious liqueur, "I don't think so now; but I would not drink if I were you." As the words left his lips, Grey Stuart raised the little cup to her mouth, slowly drained it, and set it down. Chumbley's brow contracted, but he could not help admiring the girl's firmness. "Do you like my wine?" said a voice then, and the lieutenant started on finding that the Princess had been narrowly watching them. "Yes, it is delicious," he said, smiling. "I drink to you, as you English do," she said, taking a cup from the same tray as that which had borne those of Chumbley and Grey Stuart. "I drink to your health--you two," she said again, and she seemed to drain the cup. "Do you not think it good?" she said, in a low voice, and with a singularly impressive smile. "Surely you do not think I would give poison to my friends." VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. AFTER THE FEAST. The Inche Maida turned her head just then in reply to some remark made by Captain Hilton, and Chumbley took advantage thereof to whisper to his companion: "The Princess must have understood what we said. How provoking that I should have uttered such a foolish remark! Why, I quite frightened you!" "I was a little alarmed," faltered Grey, who seemed agitated. "It sounded so very dreadful, Mr Chumbley," she added, after a pause. "You have always been so kind and gentlemanly to me, may I ask a favour?" "To be sure," he replied.