“It is advisable that the balloonist’s friend, the sailor, should look well after him to-night; and he must take no stimulants, as I fear that his mind is affected.”
“What makes you think so, Peters?”
“Think so? I’m sure of it, squire. He fancies that your friend Falcon is an incendiary and a homicide, besides being flighty.”
“That is no proof that he is deranged; this scientific gentleman is a perfectly sane and far-seeing man.”
“Is he, squire? Then I am wrong in the upper story myself, while you are far gone in balloonacy! But don’t you listen to any cleverly-devised fables without having strong evidence to support them, squire, for I have no doubt that Mr Falcon will reappear to-morrow or next day and upset these people’s statements.”
“He dare not appear face to face with them,” said the squire.
“Don’t you believe that, for it is only the balloonist’s wild notion, which he has got into his head to-night.”
“It is well he didn’t get the bullet into his head! The question now for solution is, who fired either at him or at my daughter?”
“I am surprised, Squire Dove, at your having listened to what these utter strangers have insinuated about an absent man, who is being very likely mistaken for someone else of the same name.”
“You don’t know, doctor, what these strangers have told me and my daughter?”