Then like a bolt of lightning came the question, “Did de Rochelle ever direct you to commit suicide by leaping from the Queensborough Bridge?”
Sana shivered slightly. Her entire body seemed to shrink as she reached forth her arms and groped blindly in the empty air.
“Answer me!” The doctor fairly hissed the words.
In a tone scarce above a whisper came the delayed reply, “François forbade me to speak on this subject, should I ever be in a trance induced by any other than himself. I will not—I cannot answer that question. I will not!”
“Answer me. Did François direct you to commit suicide? I demand an answer.”
“I refuse to speak of this matter.”
Finding himself powerless to draw from that unconscious mind the answer he had hoped to get, Dr. White turned to Mrs. O’Brien, his face but thinly veiling the disappointment he felt.
“Say nothing of this latter question to the girl,” he cautioned, “it would only serve to distract her.”
He turned to the girl, and once more making a pass before her eyes, directed, “Wake up.”
Sana opened her eyes, rose to an upright position and slowly gazed blankly about her. Then recalling where she was and for what purpose she had come, a more tranquil look crept into her eyes.