"Very well; you will no doubt answer the purpose equally well. Philip, take a seat inside." Ben did so. "Where shall I drive, monsieur?" Major Grafton indicated the direction. They drove over a broad, smooth road on the eastern shore of the lake. It was a charming drive, not alone on account of the smooth waters of the lake which were in constant view, but also on account of the distant mountains and the picturesque Swiss habitations which regaled their eyes. They kept on uninterruptedly for nearly two hours, until Ben began to marvel at the length of the drive. Finally they came in sight of a large, picturesquely situated house, surrounded by trees. "We will descend here, Philip," said Major Grafton. "I want you to see this chateau." "Is there anything interesting connected with it?" asked Ben. "Yes, I believe Voltaire once lived here," answered Grafton. "I always thought he lived at the Chateau de Ferney." "He also lived here for a few months," said Major Grafton, shortly. "I think Calvin also lived here once." Ben entered without suspicion. A suave, black-whiskered man welcomed them. He seemed to recognize Major Grafton, and was voluble in his protestations of joy at meeting them. "Is this the boy you spoke of?" he asked. "Yes," answered Grafton. "Philip," he said, "remain in this room a few minutes while I speak with M. Bourdon." "Certainly, sir." He waited fifteen, twenty, thirty minutes, and no one came back. Finally the door opened and the black-whiskered man made his appearance--alone. "Where is Major Grafton?" asked Ben. The other smiled craftily. "He is gone, M. Philippe." "Gone! and without me?" "You are to live with me, my son." "I don't understand you. What sort of a place is this?" "It is a _maison de fous_." Ben was horror-struck. He knew now that he was in a lunatic asylum. He could guess why he was placed there. CHAPTER XXV. IN A TRAP. For a sane person to find himself suddenly incarcerated in a lunatic asylum is enough to excite a thrill of horror in the most stolid. Ben shuddered and started back, pale and sick with apprehension. He was a brave boy, but it required more courage than he possessed to preserve his coolness under such circumstances. "What does it mean?" he ejaculated. "It means, my friend," answered M. Bourdon, with a sardonic smile, "that you are not quite right here," and he tapped his forehead significantly. He spoke English correctly, but with an accent, having, when a young man, passed several years in England. "It is a lie!" exclaimed Ben, indignantly, his terror giving place to anger. "My mind is not in the least affected." M. Bourdon shrugged his shoulders, with another aggravating smile. "They all say so," he answered. "I am as sane as you are!" continued Ben, hotly. "Well, well, I may be a little touched myself--who knows?" said M. Bourdon, or the doctor, as we may call him, in a tone of banter.