Mr. Bradfield seemed to find this difficult to answer. It was not until after a minute’s reflection of an apparently unpleasant kind that he said, rather shortly:
“I could see that he was not in one of his frenzied fits, and I thought it best to go away quickly while the quiet mood lasted, and send Stelfox, who knows how to manage him. Surely you don’t suppose I should have left you alone with him if I had thought it likely he would do you any harm?”
“No, I don’t suppose so. Only——”
“Only what?”
“I can hardly believe that he is ever so very dangerous. I can’t help thinking he would be better if he were allowed to come out sometimes and see people. Do you know, I think I should go mad myself if I lived in two rooms, and never saw anybody but Stelfox!”
Chris hurried out this speech hastily, regardless of the evident fact that the subject was extremely distasteful to Mr. Bradfield, who walked up and down the room impatiently, with his hands behind him, and repeatedly looked at his watch, as if he could hardly spare the time to listen to such nonsense. When she had finished, he said, shortly:
“I am afraid you must allow me to know best. My knowledge of him dates from many years back, you see, while yours is of the slightest possible kind. But you yourself saw him in one of his fits, when he threw something at you through the window. Do you want better proof than that of his dangerous temper? And do you think a person who is born without intelligence enough to learn to speak is fit to be trusted among other human beings?”
“Never learned to speak!” echoed Chris, doubtfully. “Stelfox said it was an African language he talked!”
Angry as he was, Mr. Bradfield burst into an uncontrollable laugh at this. Then, at once recovering his gravity, he said quickly:
“Stelfox is an old woman! Never mind what he says. When you want to know anything, come to me.”