A few minutes ago he had sent a jar of oxygen to keep Luke Claridge alive! But for it one enemy to his career, to his future, would be gone.

He did not shrink from the thought.

Born a gentleman, there were in him some degenerate characteristics which heart could not drown or temperament refine.
Selfishness was inwoven with every fibre of his nature.
Now, as he stood with eyes fixed on Soolsby, the world seemed to narrow down to this laboratory.

It was a vacuum where sensation was suspended, and the million facts of ordinary existence disappeared into inactivity.
There was a fine sense of proportion in it all.

Only the bare essential things that concerned him remained: David Claridge was the Earl of Eglington, this man before him knew, Luke Claridge knew; and there was one thing yet to know! When he spoke his voice showed no excitement--the tones were even, colourless.
"Does he know ?" In these words he acknowledged that he believed the tale told him.
Soolsby had expected a different attitude; he was not easier in mind because his story had not been challenged.