"I shall have to leave the table," said Rolph to himself. "I never felt so uncomfortable in my life. Ought I to go and get a doctor here? D--n the toadstools! I only meant the major to taste them. Who'd ever have thought that they'd all go in for them. Phew! how hot the room is. Champagne." The butler filled up his glass, and Rolph, in his excitement, tossed it off, with the result that the next time Morris went round, he filled the captain's glass again. "The thought of it all makes me feel ill," said Rolph to himself. "I've got a splendid pupil in Miss Alleyne," said the major, sipping his wine. "I've given Glynne up. She can't tell an agaric from one of the polypori. Mr Alleyne, if you're trying to teach her star-names, you may give it up as a bad job." "Don't interrupt, uncle," said Glynne, shaking her finger at him, playfully. "How pale the poor girl looks," thought Rolph, who was now in an agony of apprehension. "Phew! this room is warm!" and he gulped down his glass of wine. "Jack," said the major, "I couldn't have believed those fungi would be so delicious; cook has won the _cordon bleu_. Here, Morris, you are sure these are the same fungi?" "Certain, sir," replied the butler. "I took them into the kitchen myself." "And were they all used?" "I think so, sir; part for the ontries in the first course." "What!" roared Rolph, who had been horribly guilty over that dish; and he turned white as he clutched the seat of his chair. "_Salmy of poulay ho sham pinions_, sir," said Morris, politely; and he picked a _menu_ from the table and laid it before the captain, who refixed the glass in his eye and glared at the card. "Do you mean to say that the hashed chicken and the other dish was made up with those con--those toadstools that were--were in that basket?" "Yes, sir, the basket Major Day brought in, sir," said Morris. Sir John chuckled. The major burst into a regular roar. "Are--are you sure, Morris?" gasped Rolph, turning a sickly yellow. "Yes, sir; quite sure." "My dear fellow," cried the major, wiping his eyes, "what is the matter?" "I've--I've eaten a great many of them," panted Rolph. "Well, so we all have, and delicious they were. Why, hang it, man, they won't poison you." "Don't!" gasped Rolph, with a wild look in his eyes; and, clutching at the decanter, he poured a quantity of sherry into a tumbler and gulped it down. "I say, Rob, are you ill?" said Sir John, kindly. "Yes--no--I don't know," gasped the captain, gazing wildly from one to the other, in search of a fresh victim to the poison. "Would you like to leave the table?" said Sir John. "Here, Morris, give Captain Rolph a liqueur of brandy." The butler hurriedly filled a wine glass, and the captain tossed it off as if it had been water, gazing dizzily round at the anxious faces at the table.