'No, no; it certainly was not I.'
'Well, as I was looking about, bewildered, on a staircase, I met my brother, who, I suppose, had followed me. He asked me what I wanted there. I told him. He said I was a scoundrel and a liar. Of course, I couldn't stand that, so I let out at him, and came away—and there the matter stands. What do you make of it?'
'Excuse me,' said the other, 'does your brother drink?'
'Certainly not; he's one of the most temperate men I know.'
'Could he have done it because—But ah, no, that is quite impossible.'
'I beg your pardon?'
'Is your brother in love with Miss Stanley?' said Litvinoff, slowly and directly.
'I think he is. What made you think so?'
'It was coming from her presence that I met him.'