"What of the duke, my dear boy? You told me he was well," said the banker, anxiously.
"Yes, he is well in body, better in body than he has been for years; but I think that is only because his mind is failing."
"I am very sorry to hear that! In what respect does this failure show itself—in loss of memory?"
"In partial loss of memory; but chiefly in a hallucination that possesses him. He thinks that he is still the master of Lone as well as the Duke of Hereward. He thinks that he lives in London, and in the most Objectionable part of London, only to gratify my 'eccentric whim' of being a journalist. And he daily and hourly urges me to return with him to Lone!"
"In the name of Heaven, then gratify him! Take him to Lone as my guest, until you can keep him there as your own. Let him be happy in the illusion that he is still its master. I will see that the servants there, who are most of them his own old people, do not say or do anything to dispel the illusion! Come, my son-in-law, that is to be, will you take your father at once to Lone?"
For all answer the young marquis grasped and wrung the hand of his old friend.
"But will you do it?" persisted the banker, who wanted to be satisfied on that point.
"I will think of it. I will think most gratefully of your kind invitation, Sir Lemuel. And now shall we join the ladies?"
"Certainly," said the banker.
They went into the drawing-room.