The cat has been poisoned, but by a prick with some sharp
instrument."
The King uttered an exclamation of incredulity. "But it drank
the milk," he said. "Some milk that--"
"Pardon, sire," Du Laurens answered positively. "A draught of
milk, however drugged, does not produce an external swelling with
a small blue puncture in the middle."
"What does?" the King asked, with something like a sneer.
"Ah, that is the question," the physician answered. "A ring,
perhaps, with a poison-chamber and hollow dart."
"But there is no question of that here," I said. "Let us be
clear. Do you say that the cat did not die of the milk?"
"I see no proof that it did," he answered. "And many things to
show that it died of poison administered by puncture."
"But then," I answered, in no little confusion of thought, "what
of La Trape?"
He turned, and with him all eyes, to the unfortunate equerry, who
still lay seemingly moribund, with his head propped on some
cushions. M. Du Laurens advanced to him and again felt his
pulse, an operation which appeared to bring a slight tinge of
colour to the fading cheeks.
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