"Sent here?" repeated the girl. Unconsciously her voice also had sunk to a whisper.
"He has a doctor and a nurse and keepers, and they live here all the year round. When Fred said there were people hereabouts, I thought we might strike them for something to eat, or even to put us up for the night, but, Philip Carey! I shouldn't fancy——"
"I should think not!" exclaimed the girl.
For, a minute the three stood silent, peering through the iron bars.
"And the worst of it is," went on the young man irritably, "he could give us such good things to eat."
"It doesn't look it," said the girl.
"I know," continued the man in the same eager whisper. "But—who was it was telling me? Some doctor I know who came down to see him. He said Carey does himself awfully well, has the house full of bully pictures, and the family plate, and wonderful collections—things he picked up in the East—gold ornaments, and jewels, and jade."
"I shouldn't think," said the girl in the same hushed voice, "they would let him live so far from any neighbors with such things in the house. Suppose burglars——"
"Burglars! Burglars would never hear of this place. How could they?—Even his friends think it's just a private madhouse."
The girl shivered and drew back from the gate.