Khadija looked up in evident surprise, not unmixed with apprehension, and Georgia went on, speaking in a low voice, but very slowly and distinctly-- “You are learned in poisons, Khadija. Tell me, then, what was the drug that Fath-ud-Din used to poison the Queen of England’s Envoy--that drug which you gave him?” “God forbid!” cried Khadija, raising her skinny hands in indignant protest. “Does the doctor lady think that her handmaid is as one of the evil women in the corners of the bazaars, who sell poisons to wives tired of their husbands? Far be it from me to deal with deadly drugs to such an end!” “I have other questions to ask, Khadija, but I shall speak with you no more unless you answer this one. Also it would be well for you to answer it truly, for I know the answer.” “If the doctor lady knows, why should she ask me?” grumbled the old woman; but the response was prompt-- “That I may see whether you are dealing truly with me or not, O Khadija.” “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.” As they resumed their seats on the divan, Khadija gave a lingering look into Georgia’s eyes, trying to discover whether she was possessed of information upon this point also, but finding herself baffled, leaned forward and spoke in a whisper. “O doctor lady, I will not deceive thee. It is my master’s daughter--my Rose of the World, my child Zeynab.” “And what is the matter with her?”