"That his wife broke open his safe, stole his jewels, and his ready money, and eloped with a young man."
Lorand turned abruptly to me like one whom a snake has bitten,
"What did he say?"
"That his faithless wife in company with a young man, whom he had treated like his own child, has stolen his money, and then run away, like a thief—with her companion in theft!"
Lorand clutched at the table for support.
"Don't, don't say any more."
"I shall. I have seen the safes, empty, in which the family treasures were wont to be piled. I heard from the cabman, who handed in her travelling bag after her that 'it must have been full of gold, it was so heavy.'"
Lorand's face was burning now like the clouds of a storm-swept sky at sunset.
"Did you have the bag in your hands?" I asked him.
"Not a word more!" Lorand cried, pressing my arm so that it pained me. "That woman shall never see me again."