“Did you notice anything strange in them? Anything like a fixed, vacant expression?”
“Nothing of the sort. Your eyes were bright—brighter than usual. You looked about in the room, as if you knew you were where you ought not to be, and as if you were afraid of being found out.”
“Did you observe one thing when I came into the room—did you observe how I walked?”
“You walked as you always do. You came in as far as the middle of the room—and then you stopped and looked about you.”
“What did you do, on first seeing me?”
“I could do nothing. I was petrified. I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t call out, I couldn’t even move to shut my door.”
“Could I see you, where you stood?”
“You might certainly have seen me. But you never looked towards me. It’s useless to ask the question. I am sure you never saw me.”
“How are you sure?”
“Would you have taken the Diamond? would you have acted as you did afterwards? would you be here now—if you had seen that I was awake and looking at you? Don’t make me talk of that part of it! I want to answer you quietly. Help me to keep as calm as I can. Go on to something else.”