“Yes, sir,” I said, wondering what was coming.
“A very dear friend of mine,” he said, “who has been for five years in a lunatic asylum has been cured, and is to be released to-morrow. He has a wife and family. Before he goes home to them we are anxious to see how he will behave—if he is quite cured, in fact.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, still wondering what I had to do with his mad friend.
“I have asked him to come here and stay with me.”
“What, sir!” I said, starting. “To come here!”
“Yes; but don’t be alarmed. I believe he is quite cured, and as sane as I am now. He is a very nice man—a little odd in his ways; but he wouldn’t hurt a fly. He is coming to-night. I assure you there is no danger, or I wouldn’t have asked him: only his friends think it will be better for him to get accustomed to his freedom before he goes home.”
“Of course, sir,” I said; “but it’s a great responsibility for you.”
“Oh, I’m not afraid; but I want you to help me.”
“How, sir?”
“Well, please put him a very blunt knife at dinner, and if he gets up in the morning before I do and goes out, just ask your husband not to let him go far away or let him out of his sight. That’s all.”