“No--only perhaps out of idle curiosity,” was the indifferent reply; “but there is one thing that I am anxious about, Colonel Greyson. What do the newspapers say about me--and about Lady Elaine?” “Oh, the usual twaddle. It is supposed that you went away in a huff and are abroad again.” “Capital!” laughed Sir Harold. “I could not bear to be pitied as the brokenhearted lover, who, in addition, had lost half his wits! I intend to remain here, colonel, and rely upon you to keep my secret until I am again in complete possession of my faculties. I can trust you--I know that I can trust you, and let me confide to you something concerning my host, who calls himself John Hamilton.” He straightway repeated the old musician’s story, and all became as clear as noonday to the brusque old soldier. After conversing with Sir Harold for an hour the colonel sought John Hamilton. “I have to ask your pardon again,” he said. “Annesley has told me sufficient to exculpate you completely. I am almost ashamed of my unworthy suspicions, and I am deeply sorry for you. Now, sir, I have not yet quite resolved what is best to be done. Sir Harold does not want to leave here until he is perfectly restored, and you, as an eminent surgeon, may be able to give me some idea of the extent of his malady. Can I introduce him to his friends--to the world--in months, or years?” “I have already carefully worked it out,” replied Hamilton, readily, “and am of opinion that an operation is necessary. There appears to be a clot of blood, or other viscid matter, pressing upon some of the nerve-centers of the brain. This matter may assimilate with the blood, and it may remain where it is for many years unless removed by a careful surgical operation.” “Which you are willing to perform?” “Certainly, if it is Sir Harold’s wish.” For a little while the colonel was thoughtful. “We will not press the question yet,” he said, at last. “I must discuss it with--er--other friends. He appears to be very happy here, but his duties are elsewhere, and he must be awakened to them. In a few days--a week at most, Mr. Hamilton--I will come again, and I may bring other friends with me. Good-day, and accept my hearty thanks. I trust that our friendship, so awkwardly begun, will be lifelong.” “Thank you,” said John Hamilton, as he accompanied him to the door. At the end of one of the garden walks they saw Sir Harold and Theresa stroll past, and the expression upon the girl’s face was a revelation to Colonel Greyson. He glanced sharply at Hamilton, remarking: “I said that you should hear from me within a week. Alter that to three days. Good-by, sir.” “Good-day!” replied Hamilton; then he called angrily to Theresa, and bade her attend to some household duties while he lectured his guest.