“And?” the physician breathed gently.
Sarah braced herself up with a visible effort.
“I saw her drop something into his cup.”
I believed it was a lie. To this hour I believe it. Sarah Neobard and I are never likely to meet again on this earth, and I may do her an injustice. Yet on her showing, if she was to be believed, she had looked on at what must have seemed to her an attempt to murder, and had not lifted a finger to save the life of the man she half hated and half loved.
Meanwhile the charge had been made, a charge which the adviser of the Home Office was bound to act upon, as the look he gave me clearly showed. I seized on it as an invitation to speak.
“Did you believe that the person, whoever it was, meant to poison him?” I asked, trying to suppress my indignation.
“What else could I believe?” She gave the answer almost rudely, so as to show that she resented my presuming to question her.
“And you did nothing? You didn’t interfere?”
The accuser flushed angrily. She stumbled over her reply.
“What could I do? If I had made a scene she would have denied it, and he would have taken her part. Besides, it was all over in a moment. He had drunk his coffee before I had time to do anything.”