Grayleigh shook himself and stood up.
“This must be a brief madness,” he said; “there is no other way to account for it. Ogilvie, of all men under the sun! Gentlemen, you know his character, you know what his name was worth as our engineer, but there is one other thing you do not know. The poor fellow has a child, only one, to whom he is devoted. I heard this morning that the child is dying. Under such circumstances his mind may have been unhinged. Let me follow him. I will return after I have said a word to him.”
The chairman left the room, ran quickly downstairs and out into the street. Ogilvie had hailed a hansom and was getting into it.
“One moment first,” said Grayleigh.
“What do you want?” asked Ogilvie.
“An explanation.”
“I gave it upstairs.”
“You are mad—you are mad.”
“On the contrary, I believe that I am sane—sane at last. I grant you I was mad when I signed the report, but I am sane now.”
“What packet was that you gave me?”