See what an
excellent case stands there. You procure the poison--secretly.
You make your way to your husband's room--secretly. The fatal
dose is taken from your husband's wineglass. You leave no note,
no message. The poison of which the man died is exactly the same
as you procured from Sachs. Lucille, after all, do you wonder that
the police are looking for a woman in black with an ermine toque?
What a mercy you wore a thick veil!"
She sat down suddenly.
"This is hideous," she said.
"Think it over," he said, "step by step. It is wonderful how all
the incidents dovetail into one another."
"Too wonderful," she cried. "It sounds like some vile plot to
incriminate me. How much had you to do with this, Prince?"
"Don't be a fool!" he answered roughly. "Can't you see for yourself
that your arrest would be the most terrible thing that could happen
for us? Even Sachs might break down in cross-examination, and you
--well, you are a woman, and you want to live. We should all be
in the most deadly peril. Lucille, I would have spared you this
anxiety if I could, but your defiance made it necessary. There was
no other way of getting you away from England to-night except by
telling you the truth."
"Away from England to-night," she repeated vaguely. "But I will
not go. It is impossible.
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