Nobody seemed to be moving. He heard voices in the room where the lamp in the window had prevented him from seeing what the room contained.
One of these was the voice of Prescott.
The other seemed to belong to a man also, and Eric wondered at this.
He had not supposed the artist would have a friend awaiting him here—generally when a man runs off with another’s wife he desires to shun society of all sort. There was reason enough for this, which made the action of the transgressor the more peculiar.
He wondered whether there was not something about this whole affair that he did not understand.
Later, he found out that this was so—that a man may see all the surface indications and yet not get at the real facts in the case.
He waited in his concealment for a while, and then made up his mind to push matters.
Why should he not appear before Paul Prescott and boldly announce his intention of wresting from his power the victim of his spell?
There was nothing to prevent him.
He made his way toward the door that led from the hall into the room, which as he afterward discovered was the library.