“Don’t waste time,” said Patrice, impatiently. “Get to Coralie.”
“I’ve told you Coralie was alive.”
“She was alive when you left her; but since then . . .”
“Yes, since then . . .”
“Since then, what? You seem to have your doubts.”
“It was last night, five or six hours ago, and I am afraid . . .”
Patrice felt a cold shudder run down his back. He would have given anything for a decisive word; and at the same time he was almost strangling the old man to punish him. He mastered himself, however:
“Don’t let’s waste time,” he repeated. “Tell me where to go.”
“No, we’ll go together.”
“You haven’t the strength.”