The Mysterious Potion

"Do not drink that," he said; "you must not! You dare not! I forbid you!"

I looked up at him in mute astonishment. His face was very pale, and his large dark eyes shone with suppressed excitement. Slowly my self-possession returned to me, and I said calmly: "YOU forbid me, signor? Surely you forget yourself. What harm have I done in helping myself to a simple glass of water in your studio? You are not usually so inhospitable."

While I spoke his manner changed, the colour returned to his face, and his eyes softened--he smiled.

"Forgive me, mademoiselle, for my brusquerie. It is true I forgot myself for a moment. But you were in danger, and----"

"In danger!" I exclaimed incredulously.

"Yes, mademoiselle. This," and he held up the Venetian decanter to the light, "is not water simply. If you will observe it now with the sunshine beating full against it, I think you will perceive peculiarities in it that will assure you of my veracity."

I looked as he bade me, and saw, to my surprise, that the fluid was never actually still for a second. A sort of internal bubbling seemed to work in its centre, and curious specks and lines of crimson and gold flashed through it from time to time.

"What is it?" I asked; adding with a half-smile, "Are you the possessor of a specimen of the far-famed Aqua Tofana?"