We both moved to the bed, my host still supporting me. I bent cautiously and listened, but I could hear no sound of breathing. Her heart has ceased to beat!
He took a hand mirror from the dressing-table and held it over her mouth. When he withdrew it it remained unclouded.
“She’s dead—dead!” he exclaimed. “And—well, I am in despair. First, my wife defies me—and now poor Gabrielle is dead! How would you feel?”
“I really don’t know,” I whispered.
“Come back with me into the library,” he urged. “We can’t speak here. I—well—I want to be perfectly frank with you.”
And he conducted me back to the room where we had been seated together.
I had resumed my seat much puzzled and excited by the tragedy that had occurred—the sudden death of my host’s niece.
“Now, look here,” exclaimed Mr. De Gex, standing upon the hearthrug, his sallow face pale and drawn. “Your presence here is most opportune. You must render me assistance in this unfortunate affair, Mr. Garfield. I feel that I can trust you, and I—well, I hope you can trust me in return. Will you consent to help me?”
“In what way?” I asked.