"Perhaps because I don't yet know it thoroughly, and had thought I did," Julian answered, staring him full in the face still with that strange glance of mingled interrogation and bewilderment.
Valentine watched him.
"You are treating the poor thing—and my carpet—scurvily, Julian," he said. "And you have startled Miss Bright."
Cuckoo's eyes were shining.
"No," she ejaculated.
Valentine rang the bell and directed Wade to collect the fragments of glass. While the man was doing so silence again reigned, and the little room seemed full of uneasiness. Only Valentine either was or affected to be nonchalant. As soon as Wade had gone he said to the doctor:
"This room is destined to be dedicated to strange uses, and to influence those who come within it. Julian is not himself to-night."
"Are you?" Julian asked.
"Myself?"
"Yes."