"I admit I did not come to that conclusion during the time she was here," the doctor made answer, "but her conduct at times might have suggested it. Those marks enlightened me."
In spite of his resolution to restrain himself, Roger took a step forward angrily.
"Do you mean to insinuate that she gave herself those injections—through both sleeves?" he burst out.
Sartorius turned slightly away without replying. Dr. Bousquet shrugged his shoulders and removing his spectacles wiped them carefully on a purple silk handkerchief.
"It would be unusual, monsieur, certainly, but not impossible. There is no accounting for the vagaries of these victims. Whatever the case, she is under the influence o£ morphia now. It appears to be morphia," he added cautiously.
"Then if she is," declared Roger, losing all control, "that man over there is responsible for it. He gave her the last of those injections not a quarter of an hour ago."
There is no describing the effect of this bombshell. There was shocked silence, during which both Miss Clifford and the little doctor regarded the speaker with a mixture of embarrassment and incredulous concern.
"Roger! My dear! Do you know what you are saying?" the old lady whispered in pained remonstrance.
Chagrined that he had committed himself so incautiously, Roger turned and stared down at Esther, biting his lip. Plainly this was not the time for straightforward speech. Besides, he caught a glance of sympathy mingled with scorn for himself exchanged between the two physicians.
"Never mind how she got any of the injections," he amended hastily, addressing Bousquet in a low voice; "all that concerns us now is how to save her. It was unwise of me to speak as I did."