Andrieff had done what he could, and the unhappy woman had, to some extent, come back to consciousness.
She was indeed sufficiently alive to catch Paul's words. She brought her fast fading eyes down from the ceiling and searched his face.
"Boris!" she muttered to herself: "Boris!"
Paul drew near and knelt down by the couch. He took one of her hands, which was even then growing cold.
"Boris?" she asked again in a voice scarcely above a whisper.
Paul put his mouth down to her ear and said slowly, "He is dead."
The shock of the news acted on the woman in a most extraordinary way. With a convulsive movement she suddenly gathered herself together and sat bolt upright on the couch. She would have fallen back again had not Paul caught her in his arms.
The woman opened her mouth and made two or three efforts before she spoke again, and then she only breathed the word "Boris!"
Paul's gaze wandered over the side-board.
"See if you can find any brandy," he said to Andrieff, who instantly produced a decanter.