Sparkling Cyanide

<p>Six people sit down to a sumptuous meal at a table laid for seven. In front of the empty place is a sprig of rosemary—"rosemary for remembrance." A strange sentiment considering no one is likely to forget the night, exactly a year ago, that Rosemary Barton died at exactly the same table, her beautiful face unrecognizable, convulsed with pain and horror.</p> <p>But then Rosemary had always been memorable—she had the ability to arouse strong passions in most people she met. In one case, strong enough to kill. . . .</p>