"Is she under the charge of an uncle?"
"No. Her father had her placed in the asylum, for he couldn't keep her at home. Her father is a well-to-do builder of Hartford."
All this time the young lady, who was indeed insane, was clinging tightly to Nick Smithers' neck.
"Don't leave me!" she implored. "I love you! Don't leave me, and you shall have a million dollars and a rubber doll! Don't leave me, Augustus! I implore thee, by the light of yonder stars!" And now she began to rave.
"I—I reckon I made a mistake," said the swindler, much crestfallen. "Let go of me!" And now he pushed the raving girl from him. The train had stopped at a station, and in another moment the asylum keeper had the patient on the platform, where she continued to rave. Then the train moved on.
Sinking back in his seat at the dining-car table, the swindler mopped the beads of perspiration from his forehead with his handkerchief. He was utterly disgusted.
"That is where I certainly put my foot in it," he muttered. "But I can be thankful I didn't marry the girl!"
"Sorry, sar, but you'll have to settle for this lunch," said the waiter.
"If so, I reckon I'll eat it," answered Nick Smithers, and proceeded to do so.
Nat had watched the whole scene with interest. At first he was inclined to confront the swindler without delay, but then reconsidered the matter.