Carriston slept on late into the next day. Knowing that every moment of bodily and mental rest was a precious boon to him, I left him undisturbed. He was still fast asleep when, about mid-day, a gentleman called upon me. He sent up no card, and I supposed he came to consult me professionally. The moment he entered my room I recognized him. He was the thin-lipped, gentlemanly person whom I had met on my journey to Bournemouth last spring--the man who had seemed so much impressed by my views on insanity, and had manifested such interest in the description I had given--without mentioning any name--of Carriston's peculiar mind. I should have at once claimed acquaintanceship with my visitor, but before I could speak he advanced, and apologized gracefully for his intrusion. "You will forgive it," he added, "when I tell you my name is Ralph Carriston." Remembering our chance conversation, the thought that, after all, Charles Carriston's wild suspicion was well-founded, flashed through me like lightning. My great hope was that my visitor might not remember my face as I remembered his. I bowed coldly but said nothing. "I believe, Dr. Brand," he continued, "you have a young relative of mine at present staying with you?" "Yes, Mr. Carriston is my guest," I answered. "We are old friends." "Ah, I did not know that. I do not remember having heard him mention your name as a friend. But as it is so, no one knows better than you do the unfortunate state of his health. How do you find him to-day--violent?" I pretended to ignore the man's meaning, and answered smilingly, "Violence is the last thing I should look for. He is tired out and exhausted by travel, and is in great distress. That, I believe, is the whole of his complaint." "Yes, yes; to be sure, poor boy! His sweetheart has left him, or something. But as a doctor you must know that his mental condition is not quite what it should be. His friends are very anxious about him. They fear that a little restraint--temporary, I hope--must be put upon his actions. I called to ask your advice and aid." "In what, Mr. Carriston?" "In this. A young man can't be left free to go about threatening his friends' lives. I have brought Dr. Daley with me; you know him, of course. He is below in my carriage. I will call him up, with your permission. He could then see poor Charles, and the needful certificate could be signed by you two doctors." "Mr. Carriston," I said decidedly, "let me tell you in the plainest words that your cousin is at present as fully in possession of his wits as you are. Dr. Daley, whoever he may be, could sign no certificate, and in our day no asylum would dare to keep Mr. Carriston within its walls."