"Venner!" said Dr. Fulton suddenly, "can I have a word with you?"
"Certainly. Vernet, Beudant, I leave our guests to you."
Sir Charles got up from the table and walked to the farther end of the room.
"They will not kill you, Marion?" I asked in English. "Surely they are jesting."
"Yes—and no," she said. "Last night they forced me to make a will leaving them my money. They tortured me."
"How?" I gasped.
"They dragged me to the room where you lay bound and senseless. If I had refused to obey they would have cut you into pieces before my eyes."
"My God!" I cried. "And that broke your will. But I would have deserved it all for doubting you."
"Not quite," she answered, and she smiled in exceeding sadness.
"Marion, dear Marion," I whispered, "you love me still."