"He's been there six months!" Will announced triumphantly, suppressing a delighted smile at my amazement.
"Six months! And nobody knows?"
"Nobody but the family. Oh, he gets out, now and then: I or one of the doctors goes with him and he puts in a day at the office. Everybody thinks he's travelling or taking electric light baths for his liver or Roentgen rays for his lungs or osteopathy for a cold in the head—Lord knows what!"
"A day at the office? But how can he, if he's insane?"
"He's not too insane to make money." His smile was deliberately intended to intrigue me, I thought.
"He's no more insane than I am!" I cried. "Who put him there?"
"The Countess of Barkington—primarily. Abbriglia agreed, but they'd never have done it alone—Irene's too fond of the old fellow."
"Do you mean to say——"
"Oh, don't get excited, aunty—he committed himself. Nobody roped and gagged him."
"But what doctor——"