"Poor old Hugo. Gone clean off his mental axis."
"What! What do you mean?"
"I found him just now running round in circles and dashing his head against trees. He said he was chasing a burglar. Of course there wasn't anything of the sort on the premises. For, mark this, my dear Carmody: according to his statement, which I carefully checked, the burglar was a most respectable fellow named Twist, who runs a sort of health place near here. You know him, I believe?"
"Slightly," said Mr. Carmody. "Slightly."
"Well, would a man in that position go about burgling houses? Pure delusion, of course."
Mr. Carmody breathed a deep sigh. Relief had made him feel a little faint.
"Undoubtedly," he said. "Hugo was always weak-minded from a boy."
"By the way," said Mr. Fish, "did you by any chance get up at five in the morning the other day and climb a ladder to look for swallows' nests?"
"Certainly not."
"I thought as much. Hugo said he saw you. Delusion again. The whole truth of the matter is, my dear Carmody, living in the country has begun to soften poor old Hugo's brain. You must act swiftly. You don't want a gibbering nephew about the place. Take my tip and send him away to London at the earliest possible moment."