Sick and disgusted, I found a chair, and sat down in it. If the man were crazy, there was certainly method in his madness. Besides, he had not a crazy eye; there was calm calculation in it and not a little good-nature. Did he simply want to detain me, and if so, did he have a motive it would pay me to fathom before I exerted myself further to insure my release? Answering the wave he made me with his hand by reaching out for the bottle and filling myself a glass, I forced myself to speak more affably as I remarked:
"If the wine must be drunk, we had better be about it, as you can not mean to detain me more than an hour, whatever reason you may have for wishing my society."
He looked at me inquiringly before answering, then tossing off his glass, he remarked:
"I am sorry, but in an hour a man can scarcely make the acquaintance of another man's exterior."
"Then you mean——"
"To know you thoroughly, if you will be so good; I may never have the opportunity again."
He must be mad; nothing else but mania could account for such words and such actions; and yet, if mad, why was he allowed to enter my presence? The man who brought me here, the woman who received me at the door, had not been mad.
"And I must stay here——" I began.
"Till I am quite satisfied. I am afraid that will take till morning."
I gave a cry of despair, and then in my utter desperation spoke up to him as I would to a man of feeling: