"It was All Souls Day of the Dead... In a luxurious hotel, six people sat down to dinner at the table in the above, a table laid for seven. In front of the empty place was a spig of rosemary-in memory of Rosemary Barton who had suddenly sprawled dead across that some table exactly a year before. George Barton raised his glass of champagne "I dont want to recall past sadness, but I ask you to drink a toast. To Rosemary, my wife for remembrance. They drank. There was a pause-then one of the party slumped down in his chair , his face turning purple as he fought for breath. It took him a minute and a half to die."