Betty looked up at the cry and the blood receded from her face. She sat like an image of wax, staring at the open doorway, and a moment afterwards with a gesture swift as lightning she drove the needle into the flesh of her own arm and emptied it.
Frobisher with a cry of horror started forward to prevent her, but Hanaud roughly thrust him back.
"I warned you, Monsieur, not to interfere," he said with a savage note in his voice, which Jim had not heard before; and Betty Harlowe dropped the needle on to the couch, whence it rolled to the floor.
She sprang up now to her full height, her heels together, her arms outstretched from her sides.
"Fifteen minutes, Monsieur Hanaud," she cried with bravado. "I am safe from you."
Hanaud laughed and wagged his forefinger contemptuously in her face.
"Coloured water, Mademoiselle, doesn't kill."
Betty swayed upon her feet and steadied herself.
"Bluff, Monsieur Hanaud!" she said.
"We shall see."