She looked into his eyes, trying to read there the mystery that was parting them.
“It will be better for all of us,” said Leighton gruffly.
Unable to hide her fears, Una rose and moved away from them. The boards of the well worn floor creaked harshly as she walked to the far end of the room. Pausing at the door, she looked back.
“I will wait for you,” she said.
When the sound of her footsteps died away, David turned to the old man, who was busied with his scientific apparatus.
“Well, how do you feel?” asked Leighton, gathering up the notes which were strewn on the little table.
“Curiously here,” replied David, drawing his hand across his forehead. Then he asked: “How did you know?”
“That’s easily answered. About two years ago I read, in the Journal of Psychology, a paper by your friend, Raoul Arthur, describing the strange mental effect produced on a young man by a dynamite explosion in a South American mine. Arthur is something of an authority in abnormal psychology, and his report of the accident interested me. The name of the young man was not given. I made inquiries long before our chance meeting with you in England. I learned, among other things, who the young man was. Before we met on the Derwentwater, I had watched you at the hotel.”
“You wrote to Raoul Arthur?”