and his time of aberration seemed to pass away. "You can ask

yourself what it all means," he proceeded. "My brother falls sick,

and dies, and is buried, as so they say; and all seems very plain.

But why did the familiar go back? I think ye must see for yourself

it's a point that wants some clearing."

"I will be at your service, my lord, in half a minute," said Sir

William, rising. "Mr. Mackellar, two words with you;" and he led

me without the camp, the frost crunching in our steps, the trees

standing at our elbow, hoar with frost, even as on that night in

the Long Shrubbery. "Of course, this is midsummer madness," said

Sir William, as soon as we were gotten out of bearing.

"Why, certainly," said I. "The man is mad. I think that

manifest."

"Shall I seize and bind him?" asked Sir William. "I will upon your

authority. If these are all ravings, that should certainly be

done."

I looked down upon the ground, back at the camp, with its bright

fires and the folk watching us, and about me on the woods and

mountains; there was just the one way that I could not look, and

that was in Sir William's face.

"Sir William," said I at last, "I think my lord not sane, and have

long thought him so. But there are degrees in madness; and whether

he should be brought under restraint - Sir William, I am no fit

judge," I concluded.

"I will be the judge," said he. "I ask for facts. Was there, in

all that jargon, any word of truth or sanity? Do you hesitate?" he

asked. "Am I to understand you have buried this gentleman before?"

"Not buried," said I; and then, taking up courage at last, "Sir

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