"Annette—that was the name. You went to see her, didn't you?"
"Yes, I visited her nearly two months."
"And then?"
"And then happened what I had anticipated from the very first: she died."
"Died! Great God! you could not save her?"
"It was impossible. All that I could do was to relieve her suffering as much as possible. Poor girl! she suffered too much, even then. A cancer developed, you understand, at that place. I say again, I deadened the pain as much as I could, but it was impossible to save her."
"It is perfectly ghastly. So the unfortunate child was tortured—yes, murdered by that—— Oh! the infernal scoundrel! the monster!"
"Yes, it was that Bouqueton who caused the poor girl's death; I am ready to testify to it, if necessary. But you told me, I believe, that you know the villain?"
"I don't know him, but I know who he is."
"Well, is there no way of avenging the poor creature, of punishing her assassin?—for the man is an assassin, and a hundred times more criminal than those who ply their trade openly on the highroad. If we prosecuted him before the courts, we should have no chance of proving his crime, I fancy. The victim is dead, and there is no evidence. I asked her several times if she had not some letter, or something that came from that Bouqueton; it would have been invaluable. But all that she had was a paltry ring, of no value, not even gold, which he gave her one day as being very valuable."