He ceased speaking and Beaumont, having listened attentively, was much struck with the ingenuity of the idea expressed in the delusion. This, then, was the way in which he hoped to carry out his scheme. Was ever madman so whimsical? The artist did not see much chance of benefiting by the discovery so far, still if he saw the papers mentioned by the squire, there might be something in them which would prove useful. Yes; he would get the squire to show him the hiding-place of the papers. "Your scheme is perfect," he said slowly, "but some one may find the hiding-place and steal the paper?" "No, no," replied the somnambulist, in an exulting tone. "No chance of that. I've hidden it too well." "Go and see if it is safe." "Safe! safe! is that paper safe?" muttered the old man, with a frown. "I must see. I must see. But how can I go? I am too weak." Beaumont instantly exerted his power by suggestion. "You are very strong. Go at once and examine the paper." Ordinarily the Squire used a crutch to walk with, but on hearing the remark about his strength from his hypnotiser, he at once became imbued with the hallucination that he was physically a vigorous man, and walked towards the door of the drawing-room with rapid, springy steps, followed by Beaumont. The somnambulist lead the way up the stairs, paused for a moment on the first landing, then, turning round, walked towards the front of the house on the first floor. At this moment Patience Allerby came out of one of the rooms, and seeing the squire walking in such a rapid manner, and Beaumont following, looked at them both in alarm. "Where are going sir?" she cried, as Garsworth brushed past her, and, putting out her hand, tried to grasp him. The slight touch she gave him appeared to cause the somnambulist suffering and break the hypnotic spell, for he paused at once. Alarmed lest the old man should awake, Beaumont gripped Patience by the wrist and dragged her back quickly. "You are going for your papers?" he said to Garsworth. "I am going for my papers," repeated the squire slowly, and then, in obedience to the impulse engendered, went on again. Patience would have spoken, but a devilish look on Beaumont's face seemed to freeze her blood. "Be silent," he said in a harsh whisper, shaking her wrist. "I will tell you all soon, but now be silent for your son's sake." She wrenched herself free and shrank back into the shadow with a cry, while Beaumont, taking no further notice, quickly followed the squire who was now some distance ahead. Garsworth opened a large folding-door that stood a short distance away from the stairs and which led into the ball-room of the Grange. Followed by the artist he went into the long, bare room, which stretched nearly the whole length of the front wing of the house, being lighted by eight large windows, looking out on to the park.