On hearing the name Winifred, Parkins' eyes opened wide, as he searched Villard's face.
"Yes—yes, I hear you," continued Villard—"yes, dear heart—go on—you say to—what! My God! Can it be true?" Then, glaring at Parkins, he exclaimed:—"Yes, it is true—I can see the situation clearly. No!—it shall never be!"
Parkins shuddered with apprehension, as Villard's jaws snapped together, and for a full half minute his eyes looked down upon the white damask table covering. When he raised them he glanced swiftly at his host and then turned with an apologetic smile toward Sawyer.
"I have an acquaintance by the name of——" the sentence remained unfinished—Villard's face flaming with anger.
"I know you will pardon me if I ask that we change the subject," said the host in his usual tone of voice, and without a tremor of excitement. "With no volition of my own I have undergone another experience. I have nothing to say on the subject and will beg that no questions be asked at this time. Let us have coffee and cigars, Jacques," said he, addressing the head servant, at the same time eyeing his guests in an open, cordial way. His glance at Parkins was searching, but the latter seemed entirely at ease, and in full sympathy.
"Permit me to say that I intuitively comprehend all that has occurred," said Dr. Sawyer to his host. He then turned his eyes upon Parkins, but that gentleman avoided the gaze, although from no real understanding of its significance.
"You heard no strange voice, Mr. Parkins?" questioned Sawyer.
"Voice! I heard Drury talking to some one, or something, invisible to me. I heard no reply—seemed to me as though he had suddenly gone crazy!"
"Crazy—Yes! Most likely you would think that!" replied Sawyer, sternly. "Sometimes old friendships dissolve through lack of sympathetic understanding."
"But I don't understand, sir!" replied Parkins with a composure well feigned. Glancing hastily toward Villard he asked with eyes widely opened—"What has happened?"