"And—and you believe such a thing?"
"Yes. In such matters Isaacson knows."
"Poisoned!" she repeated.
She said the word without the horror he had expected, dully, mechanically. He thought perhaps she was dazed by surprise.
"But that's not all," he said, still holding her hand closely. "I asked him who on board the Loulia could have wished for my death."
"That's—that's just what I was thinking," she managed to say.
"And then he said a dreadful thing."
"What?"
"He said that you had done it."
She took her hand away from his sharply, and sat back in her chair. He did not move. They sat there looking at each other. And their silence was disturbed by the perpetual singing on the Loulia.