“No,” I said, incredulously.  The diamond ring had disappeared from his finger, and it was easy to guess how the funds had been raised for the journey.

“Altogether opposed,” he repeated.  “I believe Olivia is dead.  I am quite sure she has never been under this roof with me, as Miss Ellen Martineau has been.  I should have known it as surely as ever a tiger scented its prey.  Do you suppose I have no sense keen enough to tell me she was in the very house where I was?”

“Nonsense!” I answered.  His eyes glistened cruelly, and made me almost ready to spring upon him.  I could have seized him by the throat and shaken him to death, in my sudden passion of loathing against him; but I sat quiet, and ejaculated “Nonsense!” Such power has the spirit of the nineteenth century among civilized classes.

“Olivia is dead,” he said, in a solemn tone.  “I am convinced of that from another reason:  through all the misery of our marriage, I never knew her guilty of an untruth, not the smallest.  She was as true as the Gospel.  Do you think you or Carry could make me believe that she would trifle with such an awful subject as her own death?  No.  I would take my oath that Olivia would never have had that letter sent, or write to me those few lines of farewell, but to let me know that she was really dead.”

His voice faltered a little, as though even he were moved by the thought of her early death.  Mrs. Foster glanced at him jealously, and he looked back at her with a provoking curve about his lips.  For the moment there was more hatred than love in the regards exchanged between them.  I saw it was useless to pursue the subject.

“Well,” I said, “I came to arrange a time for Dr. Lowry to visit you with me, for the purpose of a thorough examination.  It is possible that Dr. Senior may be induced to join us, though he has retired from practice.  I am anxious for his opinion as well as Lowry’s.”  “You really wish to cure me?” he answered, raising his eyebrows.

“To be sure,” I replied.  “I can have no other object in undertaking your case.  Do you imagine it is a pleasure to me?  It is possible that your death would be a greater benefit to the world than your life, but that is no question for me to decide.  Neither is it for me to consider whether you are my friend or my enemy.  There is simply a life to be saved if possible; whose, is not my business.  Do you understand me?”

“I think so,” he said.  “I am nothing except material for you to exercise your craft upon.”

“Precisely,” I answered; “that and nothing more.  As some writer says, ’It is a mere matter of instinct with me.  I attend you just as a Newfoundland dog saves a drowning man.’”

I went from him to Hanover Street, where I found Captain Carey, who met me with the embarrassment and shamefacedness of a young girl.  I had not yet seen them since my return from Normandy.  There was much to tell them, though they already knew that my expedition had failed, and that it was still doubtful whether Ellen Martineau and Olivia were the same person.