“He never has—or, at least, he pretends that he hasn’t; he keeps all his discoveries to himself. That’s why he has always refused to write any books. When he lectures he’s always careful to keep his secrets to himself.”
“Yes; he’s a queer old boy,” I remarked, for his eccentricities were many, and had often caused us much amusement at Guy’s.
“I only wish, Dick, that you’d try to forget all about this tangled affair,” Bob said earnestly. “You’re worrying yourself to death all to no purpose.”
“Why ‘all to no purpose’?” I echoed. “I am patient, and I shall discover something one day.”
“No,” he said confidently. “You’ll never discover anything—mark my words.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because you are watched far too closely.”
“Watched!” I cried in surprise. “Who watches me?”
“Several persons. Among them your wife herself.”
“How do you know?”