Connorton and Paulson had no difficulty in securing permission to talk with Hartley, and they approached with considerable confidence the cell in which he was detained. It had occurred to them, upon reflection, that they were now in a most advantageous position in the matter of their business relations with the inventor. He was friendless in a strange city. He was believed to be of unsound mind, and his actions had been erratic enough to give color to that belief. He could hardly hope to secure his release without their help, and if so, they could impose their own terms before extending that help. To their surprise, they found him quite cheerful and apparently indifferent or blind to the seriousness of his predicament. "Hullo, Connorton!" he cried, when he saw them approaching. "Any other proposition to make now?" "Why, no, certainly not," replied Connorton. "We came to see about you." "Awfully good of you," laughed Hartley. "How you do love me, Connorton!" Connorton's face reddened, but he ignored the thrust. "You've got yourself in a nice fix, Hartley," he remarked. "Oh, it's of no consequence," exclaimed Paulson. "Not to me," asserted Hartley. "It may be to you, of course." The impractical man appeared to be able to take a very practical view of some matters, and Connorton was the more perturbed and uneasy in consequence. "They say you're crazy," suggested Connorton. "And I guess they can prove it, too," rejoined Hartley, cheerfully. "You've said the same thing yourself, and I know you wouldn't lie about a mere trifle like that. Then, the conductor, the engineer, and the fireman of the train we came down on will swear to it ... not to mention the cooper, the hotel clerk, a few bell-boys, and the policeman who arrested me. Yes, I guess I'm crazy, Connorton. Too bad, isn't it?" "It's likely to be bad for you," said Connorton. "Oh, no," returned Hartley, easily, "I'm not violent, you know, just mentally defective; unable to transact business, as you might say. They'll find that out and let me go; but there will be the taint, the suspicion, the doubt. Very likely a conservator will be appointed when I get back home--some shrewd, sharp fellow, with a practical mind." Such a very impractical man was the inventor, and so very troublesome in his impracticality! Connorton could only begin at the beginning again, and go slow. "Suppose we get you out," he ventured, "what would you be willing to do?" "What would you be willing to do?" retorted Hartley. "What do you mean by that?" demanded Connorton. "I'm sure I don't know," replied Hartley, with an air of the utmost frankness. "I seldom mean anything, of course, and it is such a lot of trouble to find out what I do mean when I mean anything that I usually give it up. But you are so deeply interested in me--so much more interested in me than I am in myself--that I thought you might want to keep me sane; that you might not like to feel that you had driven me crazy."