But Stelfox, who was always cautious, glanced towards the door of the study, and then at her without a word, but with a gesture of warning to her to hold her peace for a while. Then, while the young lady waited, mute as a mouse, with her eyes fixed on the study door, Stelfox very deliberately locked the door through which he had just come, and walked towards a small apartment on the right, which contained a telescope and a cupboard full of chemicals, used by Mr. Bradfield when the whim took him, either as an observatory or a laboratory. Chris followed him with noiseless steps. When she had entered the room Stelfox shut the door. “You wish to speak to me, ma’am?” he asked, looking straight at her, and putting the question with his usual directness of manner. “Yes,” answered Chris, softly; “and I’m quite sure you know what it is about.” “I suppose, ma’am,” he answered, without any fencing, “it is about Mr. Richard.” “Yes. You let him come out to-day. Surely you would not let a madman go about by himself, and expect him to come back quietly as Mr. Richard did? It seems to me, Stelfox, that his only mania is a great dislike to Mr. Bradfield.” A little gleam of surprise, or of amusement, Chris hardly knew which, shot out of the man’s steady eyes. But the next moment he looked drier, he spoke more cautiously than ever. “They do take fancies into their heads, ma’am, people that are not quite right do,” he answered. “But _is_ he not quite right? Isn’t he only pretending? And isn’t that why he will not speak?” asked Chris, running the questions one into another in her eagerness. “The more I see of him the more absurd it seems to suppose that he is not in his right senses. Do, Stelfox, tell me all about him, and why he is shut up here.” “I give you my word, ma’am,” answered Stelfox at once and straightforwardly, “that I know no more than the dead.” Chris was petrified with astonishment. “You don’t know why he is shut up?” she repeated, slowly. “No, ma’am. I do know a little more than you do, though I don’t want to tell it yet. But why he is shut up here is more than I can tell you.” Chris was utterly bewildered. Before she could recover sufficiently from her astonishment to put another question, Stelfox went on: “And now, ma’am, I believe you’re interested enough in the poor gentleman to do just one thing for him?” “Yes, oh, yes. What is it?” asked Chris, eagerly. “Is it to speak to Mr. Bradfield? Is it to try to persuade him to let Mr. Richard come out? Is it----” Stelfox shook his head with a dry smile. “No, ma’am, it’s precisely the opposite of that. What I wish to ask you is not to speak to Mr. Bradfield at all about him, and, above all, not to let him know that you have seen him anywhere but at the windows of the east wing.” Chris was much troubled by this request, and after a few moments spent in thought, she said, earnestly: