The girl was fairly beside herself—almost incoherent—but there was enough in her words and fierce excitement to fill Frank with sudden apprehension.
"What is it you have done?" he demanded. "Tell me what you mean by the devil tempting you to destroy your enemy. What have you done?"
A wave of passion, anguish, remorse broke over her, and she clung to him heavily. She could not find voice at first. When she did, it had become a shuddering whisper.
"I have killed her!" she managed to gasp. "I have killed her! I did it with the Yellow Danger—you remember—the Yellow Danger—that day in the Devil's Garden—that poison one—that deadly one with the cup—there were some among those she brought to-night. She must have left them there by mistake. I knew them—I remembered that day—and, oh, I have been there since. But I was about to throw them away when the devil came from his garden and tempted me. He said no one could ever suspect or blame me. I put one of the deadly ones among those that went to her place at dinner. When it was too late I was sorry. I realized, all at once, that I was a murderer and must not live. So I ran down here to throw myself in the lake. Then I remembered that you were here, and that perhaps you could do something to save her. Oh, she doesn't know! She is happy up there, but she is doomed. You must help her! You must! Oh, I do not want to die a murderer! I cannot do that—I cannot!"
The girl's raving had been in part almost inaudible, but out of it the truth came clearly. Constance had brought some mushrooms to the Lodge, and these, as usual, had been sent in to Edith to prepare. Among them Edith had found some which she recognized as those declared by Constance to be deadly, and these she had allowed to go to Constance's plate. Later, stricken with remorse, she had rushed out to destroy herself, and was now as eager to save her victim.
All this rushed through Frank's brain in an instant, and for a moment he remembered only that day in the Devil's Garden, and the fact that a deadly fungus which Constance had called the Yellow Danger was about to destroy her life. But then, in a flash, came back the letter, written from Lake Placid, in which Constance had confessed a mistake, and referred to a certain Amanita which she had thought poisonous as a choice edible mushroom, called by the ancients "food of the gods." He remembered now that this was the Orange Amanita or "Yellow Danger," and a flood of hope swept over him; but he must be certain of the truth.
"Miss Morrison," he said, in a voice that was at once gentle and grave, "this is a bitter time for us all. But you must be calm, and show me, if you can, one of those yellow mushrooms you did not use. I have reason to hope that they are not the deadly ones after all. But take me where I can see them, at once."
His words and tone seemed to give the girl new strength and courage.
"Oh, don't tell me that unless it is true!" she pleaded. "Don't tell me that just to get me to go back to the Lodge! Oh, I will do anything to save her! Come—yes—come, and I will show them to you!"
She started hurriedly in the direction of the Lodge, Frank keeping by her side. As they neared the lights she seized his arm and detained him an instant.