“Would be all the better for us, if it were really so,” observed Dan. And to Bob: “You think that we think you’re a burglar?”
“Don’t you? Didn’t you say something about locking me up?”
“But not in a jail.”
Bob stared. “What then?”
“A sanatorium.”
“Sanatorium?”
“For the insane.”
“You mean—?”
“You’re crazy,” said Dan. “That’s the ticket. Dickie found out, up at Mrs. Ralston’s.”
“Oh, Dickie did?” said Bob, looking at that young gentleman with lowering brows.