The countenance of both Mr. Palford and his party expressed a certain degree of hesitance.
“Principally in asylums and so-called sanatoriums,” Mr. Grimby admitted with a hint of reluctance.
“Places where the curiosity of outsiders is not encouraged,” said Palliser languidly. “And where if a patient dies in a fit of mania there are always respectable witnesses to explain that his case was hopeless from the first.”
Mr. Hutchinson had been breathing hard occasionally as he sat and listened, and now he sprang up uttering a sound dangerously near a violent snort.
“Art tha accusin' that lad o' bein' black villain enough to be ready to do bloody murder?” he cried out.
“He was in a very tight place, Hutchinson,” Palliser shrugged his shoulders as he said it. “But one makes suggestions at this stage—not accusations.”
That Hutchinson had lost his head was apparent to his daughter at least.
“Tha'd be in a tight place, my fine chap, if I had my way,” he flung forth irately. “I'd like to get thy head under my arm.”
The roll of approaching wheels reached Miss Alicia.
“There's another carriage,” was her agitated exclamation. “Oh, dear! It must be Lady Joan!”