Marette could not have committed that crime, as the crime had visualized itself before his eyes.

There was something which he had not seen, something which he could not see, something that was hiding itself from him.

He became, in an instant, the old James Kent.

The instinctive processes of the man-hunter leaped to their stations like trained soldiers.

He saw Marette again, as she had looked at him when he entered the room.