Duke," said Michael.
The gravity of Dr. Warner's face increased. He took a slip
of pink paper from his waistcoat pocket, with his pale
blue eyes quietly fixed on Rosamund's face all the time.
He spoke with a not inexcusable frigidity.
"Really, Miss Hunt," he said, "you are not yet very reassuring.
You sent me this wire only half an hour ago: `Come at once,
if possible, with another doctor. Man--Innocent Smith--gone mad
on premises, and doing dreadful things. Do you know anything of him?'
I went round at once to a distinguished colleague of mine, a doctor
who is also a private detective and an authority on criminal lunacy;
he has come round with me, and is waiting in the cab. Now you calmly
tell me that this criminal madman is a highly sweet and sane old thing,
with accompaniments that set me speculating on your own definition of sanity.
I hardly comprehend the change."
"Oh, how can one explain a change in sun and moon and everybody's soul?"
cried Rosamund, in despair. "Must I confess we had got so morbid
as to think him mad merely because he wanted to get married; and that we
didn't even know it was only because we wanted to get married ourselves?
We'll humiliate ourselves, if you like, doctor; we're happy enough.
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