“Ah, yes, it is true,” murmured d’Avrigny. Then, turning to Noirtier—“Do you hope the assassin will be tried?”
“No.”
“Then you hope the poison will take no effect on Valentine?”
“Yes.”
“It is no news to you,” added d’Avrigny, “to tell you that an attempt has been made to poison her?” The old man made a sign that he entertained no doubt upon the subject. “Then how do you hope Valentine will escape?”
Noirtier kept his eyes steadfastly fixed on the same spot. D’Avrigny followed the direction and saw that they were fixed on a bottle containing the mixture which he took every morning. “Ah, indeed?” said d’Avrigny, struck with a sudden thought, “has it occurred to you”—Noirtier did not let him finish.
“Yes,” said he.
“To prepare her system to resist poison?”
“Yes.”
“By accustoming her by degrees—”
“Yes, yes, yes,” said Noirtier, delighted to be understood.
“Of course. I had told you that there was brucine in the mixture I give you.”
“Yes.”
“And by accustoming her to that poison, you have endeavored to neutralize the effect of a similar poison?” Noirtier’s joy continued. “And