Once more in the conservatory, Riche at a sign from Delapine handed him a spoonful of the coffee, and Delapine gently let a few drops of the liquid fall on the tentacles of the Drosera. As Delapine had previously remarked, the effect was surprising, but in a totally different manner from what he had meant at the time. Immediately the drops touched them the tentacles turned over and lost their colour, while the glands changed from a rich purple to a sickly pink. "This is very strange, I cannot for the moment understand it," said Delapine. "Whoever would have thought that the coffee would have had such an effect?" Then after a minute of deep reflection he turned to Villebois--"Doctor, would you mind getting me a fresh cup of coffee, this result is so extraordinary that I must repeat the experiment." So saying, Delapine calmly took the cup from Riche, and poured the remaining contents into an empty bottle, corked it, and then calmly put it in his pocket. It was all done so quietly and naturally that Duval, although beside himself with suppressed rage, dared not put out a hand to prevent it, fearing to awaken the suspicions of the others. Villebois, impressed with the calmness and with the queer look of determination and severity in Delapine's eyes, ran back to the summer-house, and brought a fresh cup of coffee. "Thank you so much: it is always better to repeat an experiment, especially when the result is so unexpected," said Delapine as he poured a few drops of the fresh coffee on another sun-dew plant. "How odd," he muttered, his grey eyes lighting up with a peculiar smile of surprise, mingled with severity. "It is very strange," he continued, "in this case nothing whatever has happened--the tentacles have not even moved." "But look at this plant here," said Riche, pointing to the Drosera on which a drop of Delapine's coffee had been poured. "Why, bless my soul, it is dead." "This is very interesting," said Delapine, "I must take some of the coffee out of my first cup to a friend of mine, a very clever analyst--and find out what he thinks of it. This is just the kind of delicate experiment that delights my friend Paul Romaine." At the sound of this name uttered so calmly and apparently so casually, Pierre Duval--already alarmed at the turn which events were taking--became deathly pale, and felt that he could not restrain himself a moment longer, nor prevent his growing agitation from betraying him. With a supreme effort, however, he pulled himself together, and it was almost with his usual every-day sang-froid that he quietly excused himself owing to a legal appointment, and hurriedly went back to the house.