Instead of listening uninterruptedly to the confidences imparted to me by Carew, I prompted, probed and asked questions, and thus learnt much which might otherwise not have come to my knowledge. Considering the motive by which I was impelled, the investigation I was pursuing was of an exceedingly delicate nature, but to my surprise, Carew met--nay, anticipated--me with a most surprising frankness. He made no attempt to avoid the subject, and the interest he evinced in it seemed to exceed my own. He spoke much of himself--not in direct connection with hereditary insanity, but as though there was that in his life before the death of his parents which it would be a relief to him to clear up. He gave me a circumstantial account of all the incidents of those early years, taking pains to recall the most trifling detail bearing upon his youth. "It is a strange pleasure to me," he said, "to be able to unbosom myself so freely. My wife is acquainted with much I have imparted to you. There was never any need to distress her by a relation of the morbid fancies which afflicted me when I was a boy, and which, perhaps, were the foundation of the profound melancholy which, after sunset, has lately crept upon me. Perhaps I am paying the penalty of old age." I combated this view, pointing out that he was in the prime of life, with perhaps its most useful years before him. Throughout these discussions and confidences the names of Mildred and Reginald were not mentioned--I purposely avoided reference to them, but Carew did not appear to have any thought of them while we conversed. The one person who seemed to me able to furnish information from which I could weave a rational theory was Mrs. Fortress, the nurse who for a number of years attended Gabriel Carew's mother. I asked him if any correspondence had passed between them since she left Rosemullion, and he answered, "No," and that he had not seen or heard of her from that time. I then asked him if he had any idea where she was to be found, supposing her to be still living. "In the last interview I had with her," he replied, "she gave me an address in Cornwall." He paused here, and I saw that he was weighing some matter in his mind. "I can find this address for you," he said presently, "if you desire it. Have you any curiosity to see her?" "Yes," I said boldly, "if you have no objection." Again he paused in thought. "I have no objection," he said. "She may reveal to you what she declined to reveal to me, and it may assist you in your inquiry."