"No," he said, in a low, shaken voice. "LeFair will go—I remain here." He pointed suddenly to Marie-Louise. "I must speak to her—alone. Go, LeFair—wait for me at my rooms."
Marie-Louise drew hurriedly back.
"No, no!" she exclaimed sharply. The man filled her with abhorrence; and now, besides, he was trying to keep her away from Jean—and nothing, nothing in all the world would make her leave Jean's side now.
But no one seemed to be paying any attention to her—not even Paul Valmain any more, who had turned away, and, whispering as he went, was walking rapidly into the salon with the man they had called LeFair. The doctor had slipped his wrist through the handle of his black bag to leave his hands free, and he and the other man were lifting Jean up in their arms—and then, numbly, as they carried him from the room, she followed.
She saw nothing now only Jean's face, so ghastly in pallor, with its closed eyes, and with the black hair tumbling over his forehead. It brought a greater fear upon her; but she kept telling herself that she must be brave, for perhaps they would let her help them when they got upstairs, perhaps there would be something that she could do.
They went on through the salon, and out into the hall, and began to mount the stairs—and then some one, hurrying from the direction of the front door, caught her arm.
"Wait, mademoiselle, wait!" a voice said hoarsely. "Wait—I must speak to you!"
It was Paul Valmain again. She pushed him violently away from her, and, without looking back at him, went on after the others.
On the landing at the head of the stairs, they halted for a moment to open a door, and then for the first time the doctor appeared to notice that she had been following.
"Pardon, mademoiselle," he said a little brusquely. "If mademoiselle will be good enough to wait below!"