Brott’s eyes were suddenly bright. The Prince quailed before the fierceness of his gaze.
“She would not go!” he exclaimed sharply.
“She will,” the Prince answered. “She must! Not only that, but you will earn her eternal gratitude. Listen, I must tell you the predicament in which we find ourselves. It places Lucille’s life in your hands.”
“What?”
The exclamation came like a pistol shot. The Prince held up his hand.
“Do not interrupt. Let me speak. Every moment is very valuable. You heard without doubt of the sudden death at the Carlton Hotel. It took place in Mr. Sabin’s sitting-room. The victim was Mr. Sabin’s servant. The inquest was this afternoon. The verdict was death from the effect of poison. The police are hot upon the case. There was no evidence as to the person by whom the poison was administered, but by a hideous combination of circumstances one person before many hours have passed will be under the surveillance of the police.”
“And that person?” Brott asked.
The Prince looked round and lowered his voice, although the room was empty.
“Lucille,” he whispered hoarsely.
Brott stepped backwards as though he were shot.