"Bobby," said his wife, in a horrified tone "how can you repeat such disgusting gossip?"
"I'm only telling you what they say," said Bobby, apologetically.
"I don't wish to know it." Bobby held his peace. "Why should she have any motive?" said his wife, after a moment's reflection "when her engagement was broken?"
"They say—but I thought you didn't wish to know."
"I don't, but I suppose, I must know. What do they—these disgusting people—say?"
"They think that Gerard found out something which made him break the engagement. As for the poison, that was sent before, you know"—
"Bobby," said his wife, with a little cry, "you don't mean to suggest that she—that Elizabeth Van Vorst"—She paused as if at a loss for words, and Bobby concluded the sentence.
"Sent the poison?" he said, quietly. "No, I don't suggest it—not for a second; I don't believe it, even," he cried, with sudden emphasis, "but there are other people who—who do both."
"Then they must be fools." Bobby made no reply. "Where," she said, in a moment, "do they suppose she got it—the poison?"
"That they don't know—as yet; but they know—or they think they do—where she got the flask. There's a shop in Brooklyn where they sell others like it"—he stopped.