He spoke without turning his head.
"Just a teaspoonful--not a drop more.

The rest water." Olga poured out the dose, controlling her hands with difficulty.
"Not a drop more," he reiterated.

"There's sudden death in that.
Finished?
Then give it to me!" He raised Violet up in bed and took the glass from Olga.

A curious perfume filled the room--a scent familiar but elusive.

Olga stood breathing it, wondering what it brought to mind.
Max held the glass against the pale lips, and suddenly she remembered.
It was the magic draught he had given to her two days before.
Violet seemed to be unconscious, but she drank nevertheless very slowly, with long pauses in between.