“Excuse me,” I said, “did Macbeth work also in the laboratory at that time?”
“Never! Lerne gave him jobs to do in the hothouse, where he kept my poor friend a prisoner.
“Poor Donovan, he would have done better to have remained over yonder. It was for my sake that he came back from Scotland, and he tried to make me understand that in his jargon.
“‘For you, for you,’ was all he could manage to say.
“For me! Good heavens, what had he become ‘for me’ a few weeks later!
“Now listen! Here is where the madness comes in.
“That winter it was snowing. Lerne was taking a nap in the armchair in the little drawing-room—at least he was pretending to have a nap.
“Donovan gave me a glance. Pretending to go out to have a walk in the snow, which was falling, he went out by the hall. I heard him whistling a tune outside. He moved away. I went back to the dining-room to help the maid clear the table. Donovan joined me there, by the door opposite to that of the little drawing-room which we left open so that we could hear Lerne’s movements.
“He flung his arms round me. I embraced him. We had a silent kiss.
“Suddenly Donovan went green. I followed his looks. The door of the little drawing-room has a glass panel, and in that dim mirror, I saw Lerne’s eyes watching us.