She sprang to her
feet at once. "One more question, mademoiselle," said he,
imparting as much solemnity to his tone as he could. "Do you know
what liquid it was that M. de Chalusse took this morning?"
"Alas! no, monsieur."
"It is very important that I should know. The accuracy of my
diagnosis is dependent upon it. What has become of the vial?"
"I think M. de Chalusse replaced it in his escritoire."
The physician pointed to an article of furniture to the left of
the fireplace: "There?" he asked.
"Yes, monsieur."
He deliberated, but at last conquering his hesitation, he said:
"Could we not obtain this vial?"
Mademoiselle Marguerite blushed. "I haven't the key," she
faltered, in evident embarrassment.
M. Casimir approached: "It must be in the count's pocket, and if
mademoiselle will allow me----"
But she stepped back with outstretched arms as if to protect the
escritoire. "No," she exclaimed, "no--the escritoire shall not be
touched. I will not permit it----"
"But, mademoiselle," insisted the doctor, "your father----"
"The Count de Chalusse is not my father!"
Dr. Jodon was greatly disconcerted by Mademoiselle Marguerite's
vehemence. "Ah!" said he, in three different tones, "ah! ah!"
In less than a second, a thousand strange and contradictory
suppositions darted through his brain. Who, then, could this girl
be, if she were not Mademoiselle de Chalusse? What right had she
in that house? How was it that she reigned as a sovereign there?
Above all, why this angry outburst for no other apparent cause
than a very natural and exceedingly insignificant request on his
part?
However, she had regained her self-possession, and it was easy to
see by her manner that she was seeking some means of escape from
threatened danger.
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