les of
professional honor do not forbid me to mention. I don't know, Mrs.
Eyrecourt, whether you will quite like to be introduced to the scene of
the story. The scene is in a madhouse."

Mrs. Eyrecourt burst out with a coquettish little scream, and shook her
fan at the doctor. "No horrors!" she cried. "The bare idea of a madhouse
distracts me with terror. Oh, fie, fie! I won't listen to you--I won't
look at you--I positively refuse to be frightened out of my wits.
Matilda! wheel me away to the furthest end of the room. My vivid
imagination, Father Benwell, is my rock ahead in life. I declare I can
_smell_ the odious madhouse. Go straight to the window, Matilda; I want
to bury my nose among the flowers."

Sir John, upon this, spoke for the first time. His language consisted
entirely of beginnings of sentences, mutely completed by a smile. "Upon
my word, you know. Eh, Doctor Wybrow? A man of your experience. Horrors
in madhouses. A lady in delicate health. No, really. Upon my honor, now,
I cannot. Something funny, oh yes. But such a subject, oh no."

He rose to leave us. Dr. Wybrow gently stopped him. "I had a motive,
Sir John," he said, "but I won't trouble you with needless explanations.
There is a person, unknown to me, whom I want to discover. You are a
great deal in society when you are in London. May I ask if you have ever
met with a gentleman named Winterfield?"

I have always considered the power of self-control as one of the
strongest points in my character. For the future I shall be more humble.
When I heard that name, my surprise so completely mastered me that I sat
self-betrayed to Dr. Wybrow as the man who could answer his question.

In the meanwhile, Sir John took his time to consider, and discovered
that he had never heard of a person named Winterfield. Having
acknowledged his ignorance, in his own eloquent language, he drifted
away to the window-box in the next room, and gravely contemplated Mrs.
Eyrecourt, with her nose buried in flowers.

The doctor turned to me. "Am I wrong, Father Benwell, in supposing that
I had better have addressed myself to _you?"_

I admitted that I knew a gentleman named Winterfield.

Dr. Wybrow got up directly. "Have you a few minutes to spare?" he asked.
It is needless to say that I was at the doctor's disposal. "My house is
close by, and my carriage is at the door," he resumed. "When you feel
inclined to say good-by to our friend Mrs. Eyrecourt, I have something
to sa