"Yes, that's just the point. There's something very curious about the whole affair," declared the young man. "When your aunt is in bed, he goes up, evidently to take his friend food and drink. And yet he puts on a gown which makes him look—as you have described it—like a Spanish Inquisitor."
"Only all in white. Why white?"
"Can it be that the person upstairs is not self-imprisoned?" suggested the young man, as a sudden thought occurred to him. "Can it be that whoever is confined there is without proper mental balance? Solitary confinement produces madness, remember. In Italy, where solitary confinement for life takes the place of capital punishment for murder, the criminal always ends his days as a lunatic—driven mad by that terrible loneliness which even a dog could not suffer."
"That's certainly quite another point of view," she remarked. "I hadn't thought of that!"
"Well, it is one to bear in mind," he said. "Your aunt, a most worthy lady, is devoted to Mr. Boyne and serves him well. For the present let her hold him in high esteem. In the meantime we will watch, and endeavour to solve this mystery, Marigold."
Hardly had the words left his mouth, when the old lady entered the room with two cups of tea upon a brass tray.
"There!" she said, addressing Marigold. "I know you like a cup o' tea at this hour of the evening, and I hope, Mr. Durrant, it will be to your liking. Mr. Boyne often has a cup out of my teapot if he gets home before I go to bed."
"It's awfully good of you, auntie," the girl declared. "I know Mr. Durrant highly appreciates it."
"That's all right," laughed the old lady. "I'll soon be going to bed. It's near ten o'clock now."
Gerald glanced at his wrist-watch and saw that it was just ten.