The next instant the withered leaves fell to the ground, and lay there dry and shrivelled.

The stalk was brown and dry.
As he released Caine's wrist he dropped the stalk in the middle of the bush, and said in a loud tone: "As thou hast lived, die--as all things must which shall live again." As quickly as the rose-bush had grown and flowered so quickly, it withered and died.

In a few moments there was nothing left of it but a few dry sticks lying in a little heap of dust.
The circle suddenly widened out as the people shrank back, every face showing, not only wonder now, but actual fear; and now Franklin Marmion felt that Phadrig had been allowed to go as far as a due consideration for the sanity of his guests would permit.

The other two Professors were disputing in low, anxious tones, as if even their scepticism was shaken at last: Martin Caine had drifted away through the opening press to hide his terror and chagrin.

The Adept stood impassively triumphant beside the poor relics of the rose-bush, but obviously enjoying the consternation that he had produced--for now the lust of power which ever attends upon imperfect knowledge had taken hold of him, and he was devising yet another marvel for their bewilderment.