"If he was a thief"; and again Linforth said:
"I don't understand."
But there was now more of anger, more of horror in his voice, than surprise; and as he spoke he took up the pad of cotton wool.
"You do understand," said Ralston, quietly.
Linforth's fingers worked. That pad of cotton seemed to him more sinister than even the cords.
"For her!" he cried, in a quiet but dangerous voice. "For Violet," and at that moment neither noticed his utterance of her Christian name. "Let me only find the man who entered her room."
Ralston looked steadily at Linforth.
"Have you any suspicion as to who the man is?" he asked.
There was a momentary silence in that quiet hall. Both men stood looking at each other.
"It can't be," said Linforth, at length. But he spoke rather to himself than to Ralston. "It can't be."