Over the satisfied lips of De Gollyer the same ironical smile returned.
"I say, as a matter of fact I didn't suspect, you—you cared so much."
"I adored her!"
With a quick movement, Lightbody turned. His eyes flashed. He no longer cared what he revealed. He began to speak incoherently, stifling a sob at every moment.
"I adored her. It was wonderful. Nothing like it. I adored her from the moment I met her. It was that—adoration—one woman in the world—one woman—I adored her!"
The imp of irony continued to play about De Gollyer's eyes and slightly twitching lips.
"Quite so—quite so," he said. "Of course you know, dear boy, you weren't always so—so lonely—the old days—you surprise me."
The memory of his romance all at once washed away the bitterness in Lightbody. He returned, sat down, oppressed, crushed.
"You know, Jim," he said solemnly, "she never did this, never in the world, not of her own free will, never in her right mind. She's been hypnotized, some one has gotten her under his power—some scoundrel. No—I'll not harm her, I'll not hurt a hair of her head—but when I meet him—"
"By the way, whom do you suspect?" said De Gollyer, who had long withheld the question.