I cannot bear
the thought. It stifles, it chokes me; and yet for three hours I've had
to endure it. Three hours! and with no prospect of release unless you--"
"Oh, I'll do something," was Gerridge's bland reply. "But first I must
have a few more facts. A man such as you describe should be easy to find;
easier than the lady. Is he a tall man?"
"Unusually so."
"Dark or light?"
"Dark."
"Any beard?"
"None. That's why the injury to his jaw shows so plainly."
"I see. Is he what you would call a gentleman?"
"Yes, I must acknowledge that. He shows the manners of good society, if
he did whisper words into my wife's ear which were not meant for mine."
"And Mr. Fulton knows nothing of him?"
"Nothing."
"Well, we'll drop him for the present. You have a photograph of your
wife?"
"Her picture was in all the papers to-night."
"I noticed. But can we go by it? Does it resemble her?"
"Only fairly. She is far prettier. My wife is something uncommon. No
picture ever does her justice."
"She looks like a dark beauty. Is her hair black or brown?"
"Black. So black it has purple shades in it."
"And her eyes? Black too?"
"No, gray. A deep gray, which look black owing to her long lashes."
"Very good. Now about her dress. Describe it as minutely as you can. It
was a bride's traveling costume, I suppose.
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