“Speak to him!” exclaimed Mr. Bradfield shortly. “Speak to a madman! Well, you can, certainly if you like. But we shall have to take some precautions, as the very sight of a woman throws him into a frenzy. The sex is his pet aversion.” Chris looked incredulous; she could not help it. It is always difficult to understand that one can have no attraction for a creature who attracts oneself, and Mr. Richard certainly attracted her. “I can’t think what has put the idea into your head of wishing to speak to him,” went on Mr. Bradfield, in a tone of open annoyance. “Surely you don’t think he is ill-treated under my roof? Stelfox is a man in every way to be trusted, and you can ask him yourself about the poor fellow’s condition.” “I didn’t mean that, I didn’t mean to imply that he was not kindly treated,” answered Chris, hastily. “But he looks so sane, so quiet; I was wondering whether something might not perhaps be done for him if you sent him to be seen by some celebrated mad doctor. I daresay you will think it very impertinent of me to make such a suggestion,” added the girl, laughing rather shyly, as if deprecating his anger at her boldness, “but you know mother always says I’m an impudent monkey, and I can’t help my nature, can I?” But Mr. Bradfield did not take her remarks as kindly as usual. He frowned, and seemed to be thinking out some idea which had entered his mind while she was speaking. There was a short pause before he said, not noticing her last words: “You think he is quiet, do you? You think I am exaggerating when I tell you he hates the sight of a woman. Well, you shall see. Wait here a moment while I find out where he is.” Mr. Bradfield left her by herself for a short time, while he followed the path among the trees, towards the sea-front. Chris felt chilled and miserable. He seemed so much annoyed that she feared that she had done more harm than good by her interference. All that she had gained was the knowledge that Mr. Richard’s case was considered hopeless; and this knowledge caused her infinite pain. She looked up again at the barred windows, and pictured to herself the blank, dismal life of the man who lived in those gloomy rooms, where the branches of the trees shut out the sun. What were the thoughts that occupied the mind of the unhappy man who lived there? Whom was he waiting for, watch in hand? Was it for someone to cheer him in his solitude, someone who never came? Silly Chris had tears in her eyes at the thought. She brushed them away hastily as Mr. Bradfield came hurriedly back. He looked excited, and there was a confident look on his face, which showed his belief that he could convert her to his own views of the madman. “Come,” said he. “Come this way, through the front gate.”