"So there was. But he left here about five days ago, perfectly restored to reason."
Perkins leaned for a moment or two against the wall to support himself. His knees bent under him. Then he asked in an agitated voice—
"Is he in Boston?"
"I do not know. He was from the South, and his daughter has, in all probability, taken him home."
"Where did they go when they left here?"
But the attendant could not tell. Nor did any one in the institution know. The daughter had never told her place of residence.
Excited beyond measure, Perkins returned to Boston, and went to see Berlaps. From him he could learn nothing. It was two months or so since she had been there for work. Michael was then referred to; he knew nothing, but he had a suspicion that Mrs. Gaston got work for her.
"Mrs Gaston!" exclaimed Perkins, with a look of astonishment. "Who is Mrs. Gaston?"
"She is one of our seamstresses," replied Berlaps.
"Where does she live?"