"Is your name Francois?" he asked, as the man lingered at the door.
"Oui, monsieur."
"And how long have you been here—in this asylum?"
"How long, monsieur? Five years, nearly."
"There is some mistake about my being here, Francois. I don't look crazy, do I?"
"No, monsieur; but——"
"But what?"
"That proves nothing."
"There is a plot against me, and I am put here by an enemy. I want you to be my friend. Here, take this."
Ben produced from his pocket a silver franc piece and offered it to Francois, who took it eagerly, for the man's besetting sin was avarice.