John Arthur stood for many minutes in the same place and attitude. When his anger would permit him, he began to wonder. She had come and gone, and how much the wiser was he? Where had she been all these months? Why had she allowed them to think her dead? Who were her friends, for friends she must have found? Why had her presence in the house, if she had been here, been kept from him? How had she gained the ascendancy over every one in that house? He thought so long and intensely that he started up, at last, almost beginning to fear that he was becoming mad. When Dr. Le Guise again came into his presence, he began to question him. But it was labor lost. Dr. Le Guise would not admit that he was a sane man. Dr. Le Guise knew nothing, absolutely nothing, outside the range of his professional duties. He was sorry for his patient; very sorry. He assumed to take all assertions on the part of Mr. Arthur as so many fresh evidences of insanity. [Illustration: "Don't try that, sir!" cried Henry, in high wrath.--page 375.] He was very grave, was Dr. Le Guise, but not to be moved. In fact, the prisoner fancied that he could observe in the doctor's tone, manner, and countenance, an unusual degree of complacency, and relish for his position and authority. And the prisoner was right. The reason for the doctor's placidity of manner was simply this: Madeline on leaving the rooms of the west wing, had encountered the worthy "doctor" just at the turn of the passage, and she had paused, saying: "Dr. Le Guise, you were right about my unfortunate step-father. He is quite mad, and really a dangerous charge. An ordinary fee is too little to offer you, considering what you have undertaken. I don't know what terms my step-mamma has made with you, but I will volunteer to double her price. You will be amply remunerated, and must consider the house and everything in it at your disposal, so long as you keep your patient safe, and do not permit him to do any mischief." The astute Professor had taken in the full meaning of her words, which served to quiet the fears that had haunted him since the advent of Miss Payne; fears that the young lady would prove to be an enemy, and one keen enough to fathom the secret they were keeping hidden in the west wing. He had seen that, for some reason, neither Cora nor Davlin dared, or did, oppose her. Now he fancied he understood the reason; it was because they did not fear her, for her interests were in common with theirs. "He is certainly a dangerous man," said the Professor, gravely; "I will obey your instructions to the letter." CHAPTER XL. DAVLIN'S "POINTS."