“Oh, yes; certainly, sir. Ask anything you think proper. I shall have great pleasure indeed in affording you every information in my power. And allow me to add, my good sir, how deeply I feel the honour you have done me in demanding my attendance, while you are surrounded by so much of the first talent, knowledge, and experience that the profession can boast of. I trust the case is not a very serious one. Allow me, sir.” And the Doctor drew up his chair near that of Mr. Luptons, and solicitously extended his fingers in order to feel his pulse. The last-named gentleman pretended not to observe this invitation, as he remarked, in reply to the Doctor's concluding words. “I am afraid, Mr. Rowel, the case _is_ a very serious one indeed.” “Indeed! Let us hope for the best. It is of no use to be down-hearted. Now, sir, explain the symptoms, if you please.” “The first symptom, then,” replied the Squire, “is this:--that youth with whom you have been talking appears to have well founded reasons for believing, that for many years you have kept imprisoned in your house, as a lunatic, a man of perfectly sound mind, who never ought to have been there.” The Doctor's countenance underwent a sudden change, as this remark came so unexpectedly upon him. “Sir!” he exclaimed, “you are not serious?” “I certainly am not joking,” replied Mr. Lupton. “Then am I to believe it possible,” rejoined the Doctor, “that you, sir, can have _descended_, I may say, so far as to listen to the idle tales and ridiculous nonsense which such a boy as this may have picked up amongst the gossips and old women of a village, about matters of which they cannot possibly know anything? It surely, sir, cannot be needful for me to disabuse your mind of prejudices of this kind,--to inform you how the suspicions and conjectures of the ignorant and vulgar are apt to attach to any professional man, associated so peculiarly as I am with a very unfortunate class of patients.” “I anticipate all you would say,” observed the Squire, “and sufficiently appreciate the force of your remarks. At the same time I should be glad to know whether you have or have not a patient named Woodruff confined on your premises?” “Emphatically, then, sir,” replied the Doctor, “I HAVE NOT.” “And never had?” “That I will not say.” “You have removed him?” “There is no such individual in my care.” “Is he at liberty?” “I think, Mr. Lupton,” replied the Doctor, very smoothly, “you will allow that, without offence, I may decline, after what has been said, to give any farther explanation of a purely professional affair, for which I do not hold myself responsible, save as a matter of courtesy, to any man or any power in existence.”