But the words were taken by the doctor, and apparently by
Julian, in a hidden and different sense.
"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."
"My dear Julian, we shall be forced to think the absinthe has been at
work too busily in your brain. What is the matter?"
"Nothing."
"One would think we had been having a sitting, you are so excited."
Julian suddenly drew his breath sharply, as if struck by a shot of an
idea.
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