"Yes, I can stay here to-night."
"That's good. I'll not need to see much of you, as I am very busy. You'll be under the direction of Mrs. Robotham, my assistant. By the way, I presume you have no objection to being designated by a number?"
"By a number?" inquired Frank, somewhat puzzled.
"Yes. You see many of our patients have queer notions. Names are strange things to them. They often bring back painful memories. To avoid that we are all known by numbers here."
"I don't mind in the least." In fact Frank was glad. This might be the means of enabling him to keep his name hidden, and not necessitate him giving a false one, which he did not like to do, even to gain his ends.
"Very good, I'm number one, Mrs. Robotham is number two, and so on. You'll be number thirty-one."
"All right," Frank answered, and he was relieved when Dr. Hardman turned away, without seeking to question him further. Clearly the red-haired physician had not recognized the boy as the one who had followed him that night in the darkness from Mr. Dent's house, nor the one he had run from in the woods.
Mrs. Robotham came in at that juncture and, as he passed her in the doorway, Dr. Hardman announced that he had engaged the boy. He told his assistant to instruct Frank where to go and what to do.
"Come with me and I'll show you your room," said the woman, and Frank followed, wondering what he was going to do, now that he had the place at the sanitarium.
"Have you had supper?" asked Mrs. Robotham.