“Well, one cannot lay down hard and fast lines; but it is not now customary for a man to attempt the sort of vengeance that he would have done a century or so back. He tries in these days to hurt an enemy morally by injuring his reputation; and I think no one need stand in much awe of Fitzgerald, least of all a man like your husband. It is necessary to possess a reputation of one’s own to undermine that of another with much success. Fitzgerald certainly has a reputation, but not the kind that makes him dangerous as an enemy.” Monica heard this dictum in silence. She did not appear much relieved, and he saw it. “Now you anticipate,” he continued, quite quietly and unemotionally, “that he will make a regular attack upon Trevlyn one of these days?” “I am afraid so sometimes,” answered Monica. “It may be very foolish; but I am afraid. He always seems watching us. Hardly a day goes by but I see him, with such an evil look in his eye. Tom, I sometimes think that he is going mad.” The young man’s face changed slightly. “That, of course, would put a new colour on the matter. Have you any reasons upon which to base your suspicions?” “Nothing that you would perhaps call reasons, but they make me suspicious. Randolph, spoke of a touch of insanity that he had fancied lurked in his brain. At least, when he hates he seems to hate with a ferocity that suggests the idea of madness. Tom, if you were to see him, should you know?” Tom mused a little. “I might be able to hazard a shrewd guess, perhaps. Why do you want so much to know?” Without answering, Monica propounded another question. “If he were mad, he would be much more dangerous, would he not?” “Yes; and if really dangerous, could be placed under proper control.” A look of relief crossed Monica’s face. “Could that be done?” “Certainly, if absolute madness could be proved. But you know in many cases this is most difficult to demonstrate; and in Fitzgerald’s independent position it might be exceedingly hard to get the needful evidence.” Her face clouded again. “But you will see him, Tom? You will try to find out?” He hesitated a little. To tell the truth he did not care about the job. He had a hearty contempt for the man himself, did not attach much weight to Monica’s suspicions, and thought her fears far-fetched. But her pleading face prevailed. “Well, Monica, if you particularly wish it, I will endeavour to meet him, and enter into a sort of speaking acquaintance. I don’t promise to force myself upon him if he avoids me pointedly, but I will do what I can in a casual sort of way to find out something about him. But it is not at all likely he will prove mad enough to be placed under restraint.” “I believe he drinks,” said Monica, softly. “He used not to, but I believe he does now.” “Well, if he has a screw loose and drinks as well, he may make an end of himself in time. At any rate, if it will relieve your mind, I will find out what I can about him.”