“The young lady you seek, monsieur, is coming along this path – there she is!... I will leave you.” Fandor had seen Elizabeth’s graceful figure moving towards him, thrown into charming relief by the country landscape flooded with sunshine. In her modest mourning dress, with her fair shining hair, she appeared prettier than ever – a touching figure of sorrowful beauty!

Elizabeth pressed Fandor’s hands warmly.

“Oh, thank you, monsieur, thank you!” she cried, “for having come to see me this morning. I know how little spare time you have – I feel vexed with myself for putting you out so... but you see–” Elizabeth could not repress a sob– “I am so alone... so desolate... I have lost everything I cared for... and you are the only person I can trust and confide in now!... I feel like a bit of wreckage at the mercy of wind and wave; I feel as though I were surrounded by enemies : I live in a nightmare... What should I do without you to turn to?”

The young journalist, moved by such great misfortune so simply, so candidly expressed, returned the pressure of Elizabeth’s hands.

“You know, mademoiselle,” he said softly, but in a voice vibrating with sympathetic emotion – the only sign of feeling he permitted himself to show – “you know that you can count absolutely on me. In getting you to take a few days’ rest in this retreat, I felt I was doing what was best for you. You are not alone; but your surroundings are peaceful and friendly, and should you have enemies, though I am loath to think it, you are sheltered here beyond their reach.

With reference to that, have you given your address to anyone, since yesterday?”

“To no one,” replied Elizabeth. “Has anyone by chance...?”

She looked troubled, and gave an anxious questioning glance at Fandor.

He did not want to frighten the much-tried girl, but he wished to solve the mystery of the unaccountable telephone call.

“Oh, I just wished to know, mademoiselle. Now, tell me, have you quite recovered from your experience of the other day?”

“Ah, monsieur, I owe my life to you!” cried Elizabeth. “For, I am certain that someone wished to get rid of me... don’t you agree with me... I must have been dosed with some narcotic, just as they dosed my poor brother, for I am now absolutely convinced that he also was sent to sleep and poisoned.”

“And that he is dead! Is that not so?” asked Fandor in a low voice.

Without hesitation, in a tearful voice, Elizabeth repeated: