'I much misdoubt, Sir, it won't turn out to be no good story for no one,' said Mr. Larcom, in a low and sad tone, and with a long shake of his head.
'No good story—hey? How do you mean, Larcom?'
'Well, Sir, I know you won't mention me, Mr. Larkin.'
'Certainly not—go on.'
'When people gets hot a-talking they won't mind a body comin' in; and that's how the capting and Miss Rachel Lake they carried on their dispute like, though me coming into the room.'
'Just so; and what do you found your opinion about Mr. Mark Wylder on?'
'Well, Sir, I could not hear more than a word now and a sentince again; and pickin' what meaning I could out of what Miss Lake said, and the capting could not deny, I do suspeck, Sir, most serious, as how they have put Mr. Mark Wylder into a mad-house; and that's how I think it's gone with him; an' you'll never see him out again if the capting has his will.'
'Do you mean to say you actually think he's shut up in a madhouse at this moment?' demanded the attorney; his little pink eyes opened quite round, and his lank cheeks and tall forehead flushed, at the rush of wild ideas that whirred round him, like a covey of birds at the startling suggestion.
The butler nodded gloomily. Larkin continued to stare on him in silence, with his round eyes, for some seconds after.
'In a mad-house! Pooh, pooh! incredible! Pooh! impossible—quite impossible. Did either Miss Lake or the captain use the word mad-house?'