They finished it all up, and were evidently vexed that there was not more.

But they did not die.
We told these facts to MacShaughnassy.

He smiled, a very grim smile, and said in a low tone, full of meaning, "Let them eat!" It appeared that this was one of those slow, insidious poisons.

It did not kill the beetle off immediately, but it undermined his constitution.
Day by day he would sink and droop without being able to tell what was the matter with himself, until one morning we should enter the kitchen to find him lying cold and very still.
So we made more stuff and laid it round each night, and the blackbeetles from all about the parish swarmed to it.

Each night they came in greater quantities.