“No,” replied Hayden. “Palmer left before you came, and Siki is busy in his pantry.”
Mrs. Burnham’s tense manner relaxed somewhat. “I want to speak to you on confidential matters,” she said. “You will kindly mention my visit to no one.”
“Certainly not.” Hayden bowed. “Proceed, madam.”
It was some minutes before Mrs. Burnham again addressed him; she seemed at first uncertain how to commence.
“I sent for you this summer to come to Chelsea,” she began, “so that you might have Mr. Burnham under observation; I told you that at the time.” Hayden bowed again. “You said then that you observed a tendency on his part to brood and to withdraw himself from the society of his friends.”
“True,” responded Hayden gravely. “His chief relaxation, aside from long solitary walks, seemed to be to lock himself in some room and work over chess problems. I advised you to use your influence to induce him to be more with people.”
“I have tried to do so.” Mrs. Burnham was exerting her superb self-control to keep her voice tranquil. “Without, however, satisfactory results; now he even dislikes my society.”
Hayden glanced at her keenly. “A morbid tendency very often makes people turn against those they love the most,” he said gently. “As Burnham’s physical condition improves he will shake off his mental depression. In my opinion, Mrs. Burnham,” he added more lightly, “half the murders and suicides to-day are the result of a torpid liver.”
Mrs. Burnham’s answering smile was wan. “Then you think his, shall we say, distorted views of people and events are the result of physical illness reacting on his mental condition?”
“It is possible,” conceded Hayden; again he eyed her keenly. “You have mentioned no specific case——”