To the railway attendant this seemed a very curious request. He began to think the doctor, with his excitable manner, was insane. At any rate, he was obliged to obey the rules. "Go back and buy a ticket, monsieur," he said, unmoved. "But I don't want to go anywhere," protested M. Bourdon. "Then go back!" And the official, placing his hand on the doctor's sacred person, thrust him forcibly aside. "Fool! Dolt!" screamed M. Bourdon, who could hear the train starting. "You must be crazy!" said the guard, shrugging his shoulders. It was too late now. The train had actually gone, and M. Bourdon turned back, foiled, humiliated and wrathful. He regretted bitterly now that he had not let Francois off the evening before, as in that case Ben would not have had a chance to escape. Now he must lose the generous sum which Major Grafton had agreed to pay for his ward. It was more than he received for any other of his patients, for M. Bourdon, recognizing Ben's sanity, shrewdly surmised that the guardian had some special design in having his ward locked up, and took advantage of it to increase the weekly sum which he charged. And now all this was lost. But no! A happy thought struck the worthy doctor. Ben had escaped, it is true, but why could not he go on charging for him just as before? His escape was not known to Major Grafton, and probably would not be discovered for a long time at least. The major was not very likely to visit the asylum, as an interview between him and his young victim would be rather embarrassing to him. Yes, that was the course he would pursue. He would from time to time send in a report of his patient, and regularly collect his board, while he would be at no expense whatever for him. It was necessary, however, to take Francois into his confidence, and he drove back to the cottage of the humble attendant. Francois was watching outside. He was afraid the doctor would succeed in capturing the boy, in whom he had begun to feel a strong interest. When he saw M. Bourdon drive up alone he smiled to himself, though his features remained outwardly grave. "Did you find him, sir?" he asked, respectfully. "No," answered M. Bourdon, roughly. "The train had just started." "And was he a passenger?" "Doubtless." "What will you do, _Monsieur le Docteur_?" Francois asked, curiously. "Francois," said M. Bourdon, suddenly, "I am sorry for you." "Why?" asked Francois, considerably surprised. "Is it because my little Marie is sick?" "Plague take your little Marie! It is because you have helped the boy to escape." "How could I help him, sir?" "Some one must have unlocked the door of his room. Otherwise, he could not have got out." "I don't know, monsieur," said Francois, assuming ignorance. "When did you first see him?" "I had walked about a quarter of a mile," said Francois, mendaciously, "when he ran up and overtook me. I told him to go back, but he would not. He followed me, and came here."