They hurried to the room. They tried the lock. It resisted. A low moaning was heard from within.
"Break it open!" cried Vandory.
As the two men rushed against the door, it gave way. They entered.
It was too late.
The glass,—the poison,—the livid and distorted face of the wretched woman, showed them that there was no hope.
She looked at her husband, and made a violent effort to speak; but when he knelt down, and seized her hand, he felt it stiff and cold.
She heaved a long deep sigh.
"May God have mercy upon her soul!" said Vandory. "She is dead!"