"To no one," replied Elizabeth. "Has anyone by chance?..."
She looked troubled, and gave an anxious questioning glance at Fandor.
He did not want to frighten the much-tried girl, but he wished to solve the mystery of the unaccountable telephone call.
"Oh, I just wished to know, mademoiselle.... Now, tell me, have you quite recovered from ... your experience of the other day?"
"Ah, monsieur, I owe my life to you!" cried Elizabeth. "For, I am certain that someone wished to get rid of me ... don't you agree with me?... I must have been dosed with some narcotic, just as they dosed my poor brother, for I am now absolutely convinced that he also was sent to sleep and poisoned...."
"And that he is dead! Is that not so?" asked Fandor in a low voice.
Without hesitation, in a tearful voice, Elizabeth repeated:
"And that he is dead. You have given me so many proofs that it is so, that I can no longer doubt it, alas! But I will take courage, as I promised you I would. I ought to live, that I may strive to rehabilitate his memory, and restore to him his reputation as a man of probity, of honour, to which he is entitled. But directly I begin to think about the horrible mystery in which I am involved, my very reason seems to totter—you can understand that, can you not? I don't understand, I don't know, I can't guess ... oh!..."
"But," interrupted Fandor, "we must seriously consider the situation in all its bearings. It may cause you atrocious suffering, but you must summon all your courage, mademoiselle. We must discuss it."
Fandor and Elizabeth had moved away from the terrace, and were now in the leafy solitudes of the park.