"I, monsieur? Nothing."

"You are lying, my girl. Your mistress has been poisoned."

"I swear--"

"I should advise you not to swear. You have twice attempted to poison

your mistress. Why did you do it?"

"But this is absurd."

"Does your mistress use eyedrops when she sings at the Opéra?"

"Eyedrops?"

"You know what I mean. A lotion which you drop into the eye in order

to dilate the pupil."

"My mistress never uses eyedrops."

"Does Madame Carlotta Deschamps use eyedrops?"

It was a courageous move on my part, but it had its effect. She was

startled.

"I--I don't know, monsieur."

"I ask because eyedrops contain atropine, and mademoiselle is

suffering from a slight, a very slight, attack of atropine poisoning.

The dose must have been very nicely gauged; it was just enough to

produce a temporary hoarseness and discomfort. I needn't tell such a

clever girl as you that atropine acts first on the throat. It has

clearly been some one's intention to prevent mademoiselle from singing

at rehearsals, and from appearing in Paris in 'Carmen.'"

Yvette drew herself up, her nostrils quivering. She had turned

decidedly pale.

"Monsieur insults me by his suspicions. I must go."

"You won't go just immediately. I may tell you further that I have

analyzed the contents of this glass, and have found traces of

atropine."

I had done no such thing, but that was a detail.

"Also, I have sent for the police."

This, too, was an imaginative statement.

Yvette approached me suddenly, and flung her arms round my neck. I had

just time to put the glass on the seat of a chair and seize her hands.

"No," I said, "you will neither spill that glass nor break it."

She dropped at my feet weeping.

"Have pity on me, monsieur!" She looked up at me through her tears,

and the pose was distinctly effective. "It was Madame Deschamps who

asked me to do it. I used to be with her before I came to

mademoiselle. She gave me the bottle, but I didn't know it was

poison--I swear I didn't!"

"What did you take it to be, then? Jam? Two grains of atropine will

cause death."

For answer she clung to my knees. I released myself, and moved away a

few steps. She jumped up, and made a dash for the door, but I happened

to have locked it.

"Where is Madame Deschamps?" I asked.

"She returns to Paris to-morrow. Monsieur will let me go. I was only a

tool."

"I will consider that matter, Yvette," I said. "In my opinion you are

a thoroughly wicked girl, and I wouldn't trust you any further than I

could see you. For the present, you will have an opportunity to

meditate over your misdoings." I left the room, and locked the door on

the outside.




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