He puzzled over the word as though it were more or less familiar to him, and when I repeated it, gave it back to me with a difference indeed, but in a way which convinced us that he quite understood what I meant.

The conversation went no further at the moment because just then some memory seemed to strike him.
He was sitting with his back against the coffin of the Glittering Lady, whom therefore he had not seen.

Now he began to turn round, and being too weak to do so, motioned me to help him.

I obeyed, while Bickley, guessing his purpose, held up one of the hurricane lamps that he might see better.

With a kind of fierce eagerness he surveyed her who lay within the coffin, and after he had done so, uttered a sigh as of intense relief.
Next he pointed to the metal cup out of which he had drunk.