“Under my pillow. Take it, and read it.”
Roland hesitated an instant. Was his sister delirious?
“Poor Amélie!” he murmured.
“Do not pity me,” she said, “I go to join him.”
“Whom?” asked Roland.
“Him whom I loved, and whom you killed.”
Roland uttered a cry. This was delirium; or else—what did his sister mean?
“Amélie,” said he, “I came to question you—”
“About Lord Tanlay; yes, I know,” replied the young girl.
“You knew! How could you know?”