"He was always awake when he left the house and returned to it?"
"Always," I replied, surprised at the question.
"He has given me full permission to put any questions to you with respect to the confidence he has reposed in you. 'If I have kept anything from you,' he said to me this morning, 'it has been done to save you from uneasiness;' and he added with a smile that he had concealed nothing from me for which he had reason to reproach himself. Certain habits, contracted during a lonely youth, had left their impress upon him, and unusual as they were, there was no harm in them. 'Of one thing be sure,' he said; 'I have lived a pure and blameless life.' I did not need his assurance to convince me of that. As Reginald's father, you should be glad to know it."
"I am glad to know it," I said, and again I was aware of the strange note in my voice, "as Reginald's father and your husband's friend."
"I will explain," she said, "why I asked you whether my husband had any reason to believe that occasionally he walked abroad at night when he was not awake. He has done so for some years past at certain times and under certain circumstances. He did so last night."
"Is he not now aware of it?" I inquired.
"No, I have never informed him that he is a sleep-walker. My reason for keeping this knowledge from him is that I am convinced it would have greatly distressed him; but what occurred last night has so disturbed me that I can no longer be silent."
My suspicions of the truth of Mrs. Fortress's statement began to fade. Here was confirmation that the son had inherited one phase, at least, of his mother's disease.
"You remarked," I said, "that Mr. Carew has walked in his sleep for some years past at certain times and in certain circumstances. Were these circumstances of a special nature?"
"Yes--and all of one complexion; when something was known from which he feared danger."