Through the window the doctor saw her coming and went to meet her, barring her way at the verandah.
"You come here, Klárika! How is that?"
"Sándor?" gasped the girl.
Through the open door the girl could hear the groans of the sick man.
"What has happened to him?"
"I don't know myself, and I don't want to accuse anyone."
"But I know!" cried the girl, "someone—a wicked girl—gave him something bad to drink. I know who it was too! She stirred it into his wine, to make him love her, and that made him ill. I know who it was, and how it was."
"Miss Klári, do not play the traitor. This is a serious crime, and must be proved."
"Here are the proofs."