co-operates with many other little arrangements to
perpetuate the lodger.

Silverton Grove in particular was supplied
with the grotesque in dress from an inexhaustible
source; whenever money was sent Baker to buy
a patient a suit, he went from his lunacy shop to
his pawnbroker's, dived headlong into
unredeemed pledges, dressed his patient as gentlemen
are dressed to reside in cherry-trees; and
pocketed five hundred per cent on the double
transaction. Now Alfred had already observed
that many of the patients looked madder than
they were—thanks to short trousers and
petticoats, holey gloves, ear-cutting shirt-collars,
frilled bosoms, shoes made for, and declined
by, the very infantry; coats short in the waist
and long in the sleeves, coalscuttle bonnets, and
grandmaternal caps. So he made his toilet with
care, and put his best hat on to hide his shaven
crown. He then kept his door ajar, and waited
for a chance of speaking to the justices. One
soon came; a portly old gentleman, with a
rubicund face and honest eye, walked slowly
along the corridor, looking as wise as he could,
cringed on by Cooper and Dr. Bailey; the latter
had arrived post haste, and Baker had been sent
for. Alfred came out, touched his hat respectfully,
and begged a private interview with the
magistrate. The old gentleman bowed politely, for
Alfred's dress, address, and countenance, left no
suspicion of insanity possible in an unprejudiced
mind.

But the doctor whispered in his ear, "Take
care, sir. Dangerous!"

Now this is one of the most effective of the
formulæ in a private asylum. How can an
inexperienced stranger know for certain that such
a statement is a falsehood? and even the just do
not love justice—to others—quite so well as they
love their own skins. So Squire Tollett very
naturally declined a private interview with
Alfred; and even drew back a step, and felt
uneasy at being so near him. Alfred implored
him not to be imposed upon. "An honest man
does not whisper," said he. "Do not let him
poison your mind against me; on my honour I
am as sane as you are, and he knows it. Pray,
pray use your own eyes, and ears, sir, and give
yourself a chance of discovering the truth in this
stronghold of lies."

"Don't excite yourself, Mr. Hardie," put in
the doctor, parentally. (Formula.)

"Don't you interrupt me, doctor; I am as
calm as you are. Calmer; for, see, you are pale
at this moment; that is with fear that your
wickedness in detaining a sane man here is
going to be exposed. Oh, sir," said he, turning
to the justice, "fear no violence from me, not
even angry words; my misery is too deep for
irritation, or excitement. I am an Oxford man,
sir, a prize man, an Ireland scholar. But,
unfortunately for me, my mother left me ten thousand
pounds, and a heart. I love a lady, whose name
I will not pollute by mentioning it in this den of
thieves. My father is the well-known banker,
bankrupt, and cheat, of Barkington. He has
wasted his own money, and now covets his
neighbour's and his son's. He had me entrapped
here on my wedding-day, to get hold of my
money, and rob me of her I love. I appeal to
you, sir, to discharge me; or, if you have not so
much confidence in your own judgment as to do
that, then I demand a commission of lunacy and
a public inquiry."

Dr. Bailey said, "That would be a most
undesirable exposure, both to yourself and your
friends." (Formula.)

"It is only the guilty who fear the light, sir,"
was the swift reply.

Mr. Tollett said he thought the patient had a
legal right to a commission of lunacy if there was
property, and he took note of the application.
He then asked Alfred if he had any complaint to
make of the food, the beds, or the attendants.

"Sir," said Alfred, "I leave those complaints
to the insane ones: with me the gigantic wrong
drives out the petty worries. I cannot feel my
stings for my deep wound."

"Oh, then, you admit you are not treated
unkindly here?"

"I admit nothing of the kind, sir. I merely
decline to encumber your memory with petty
injuries, when you are good enough to inquire into
a monstrous one."

"Now that is very sensible and considerate,"
said Mr. Tollett. "I will see you, sir, again
before we leave."

With this promise Alfred was obliged to be
content. He retired respectfully, and the justice
said, "He seems as sane as I am." The doctor
smiled. The justice observed it, and not aware
that this smile was a formula, as much so
as a prize-fighter's or a ballet-dancer's, began to
doubt a little: he reflected a moment, then asked
who had signed the certificates.

"Dr. Wycherley for one."

"Dr. Wycherley? that is a great authority."

"One of the greatest in the country, sir."

"Oh, then one would think he must be more
or less deranged."

"Dangerously so at times. But in his lucid
intervals you never saw a more quiet, gentlemanly
creature." (Formula.)

"How sad!"

"Very. He is my most interesting patient
(formula), though terribly violent at times.
Would you like to see the medical journal
about him?"

"Yes; by-and-by."

The inspection then continued; the inspector
admired the clean sheets that covered the
beds, all of them dirty, some filthy; and asked
the more reasonable patients to speak freely and
say if they had any complaint to make. This
question being with the usual sagacity of public
inspectors put in the presence of Cooper and
the doctor, who stuck to Tollett like wax, the
mad people all declared they were very kindly
treated: the reason they were so unanimous was
this; they knew by experience that, if they told