"You must go to bed," I said. We were in the salon. "In a few hours
you will be better."
"I will ring for Yvette."
"No," I said, "you will not ring for Yvette. I want Yvette myself.
Have you no other servant who can assist you?"
"Yes. But why not Yvette?"
"You can question me to-morrow. Please obey me now. I am your doctor.
I will ring the bell. Yvette will come, and you will at once go out of
the room, find another servant, and retire to bed. You can do that?
You are not faint?"
"No, I can do it; but it is very queer."
I rang the bell.
"You have said that before, and I say, 'It is queer; queerer than you
imagine.' One thing I must ask you before you go. When you had the
attack in the theatre did you see things double?"
"Yes," she answered. "But how did you know? I felt as though I was
intoxicated; but I had taken nothing whatever."
"Excuse me, you had taken egg-and-milk. Here is the glass out of which
you drank it." I picked up the glass, which had been left on the
table, and which still contained about a spoonful of egg-and-milk.
Yvette entered in response to my summons.
"Mademoiselle has returned soon," the girl began lightly.
"Yes."
The two women looked at each other. I hastened to the door, and held
it open for Rosa to pass out. She did so. I closed the door, and put
my back against it. The glass I still held in my hand.
"Now, Yvette, I want to ask you a few questions."
She stood before me, pretty even in her plain black frock and black
apron, and folded her hands. Her face showed no emotion whatever.
"Yes, monsieur, but mademoiselle will need me."
"Mademoiselle will not need you. She will never need you again."
"Monsieur says?"
"You see this glass. What did you put in it?"
"The cook put egg-and-milk into it."
"I ask what you put in it?"
"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 Opera?"
"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."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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