He was about to put his suicidal threat into execution, when Lizzie stepped quickly across the yielding earth which separated them, and stood by his side.
‘Henri!’ she ejaculated, as she clutched at his clothes with her hand and held him back.
He turned and stared at her.
‘Lizzie!’ was all he could say.
‘Yes, it is I,’ she answered simply.
At that his senses appeared to return to him. His astonishment at seeing her was so great, that he pulled himself together, as a drunken man will sometimes do, under special circumstances.
‘Lizzie—here!’ he repeated. ‘But what made you come to such a place? Do you know that you are courting certain death, and that every moment may be your last? Go back at once! Don’t stay here another instant! You were mad to think of such a thing.’
‘I am going back, and at once,’ she answered quickly, ‘but you must come with me.’
‘I cannot. The police are waiting for me outside, and I will die here sooner than deliver myself into their hands.’
She disengaged the wallet of medicines which she had carried on her back, and, pouring out a mixture of brandy and quinine, held it to his lips.