I'm awfully sorry for the poor little soul, but if you come to think of it, it's the most natural and ordinary thing in the world." But Stanistreet's thoughts were back in yesterday.

He could see nothing, think of nothing but the little figure going through the doorway, and laughing as it went.
"Do you mind not talking about it ?" said he.
Tyson sat quiet for a while, except when some obscure movement overhead roused him from his philosophic calm.

Towards midnight Mrs.Wilcox came to the door and spoke to him for a minute.

After that he became thoughtful.

"I don't quite like the look of it," said he; "he's sent for Baker of Drayton--I suppose it means that the idiot has just sense enough not to trust his own judgment.