"Oh, thank you, thank you!" cried Mr Richards, bursting into tears. "You shall have every penny of my money."
They left him crying quietly for joy. In a corner of the room a saturnine-looking gentleman was standing stock still with his eyes closed.
"Hullo!" said Jim, "I've not seen this one before. Who is he?"
"A new patient--a clergyman," replied Hughes; "he thinks he's dead. Comes to life for his meals, though."
Jim laughed--the careless laugh of thoughtless youth--but the next moment his face became grave. He felt very much for these afflicted souls, and they seemed to know it, for in their half-witted way they loved "Mr James."
After passing through several corridors, Jim and Hughes arrived at a room that was provided with a thick door in which was a grille of the old-fashioned kind. Within could be seen a red-faced, burly man, his clothing much disarranged, and his eyes wildly gleaming.
A stalwart attendant, with a bandage round his neck, was standing by, watching the occupant of the padded room through the little bars of the grille.
"I'll go in and have a chat with him," said Jim.
"You'd better not, sir," returned Hughes; "you'll take your life in your hands if you do."
"Nonsense!" cried Jim. "Open the door, Smith!"