“Now,” Mr. Sabin said, “you are beginning to get interesting.”
“Lucille must go—or run the risk of arrest for complicity in the murder of Duson.”
“Are you serious?” Mr. Sabin asked, with admirably assumed gravity.
“Is it a jesting matter?” she answered fiercely. “Lucille bought poison, the same poison which it will be proved that Duson died of. She came here, she was the last person to enter your room before Duson was found dead. The police are even now searching for her. Escape is her only chance.”
“Dear me,” Mr. Sabin said. “Then it is not only for Brott’s sake that she is running away.”
“What does that matter? She is going, and she is going with him.”
“And why,” he asked, “do you come to give me warning? I have plenty of time to interpose.”
“You can try if you will. Lucille is in hiding. She will not see you if you go to her. She is determined. Indeed, she has no choice. Lucille is a brave woman in many ways, but you know that she fears death. She is in a corner. She is forced to go.”
“Again,” he said, “I feel that I must ask you why do you give me warning?”
She came and stood close to him.