eep him at home, if possible. Do not place him with a lot of lunatics
if you can help it. No proof he is crazy because he smells everything.
My wife does the same. Her nose is over the registers half the time in
winter to see if any gas is escaping from the furnace. And as to this
Gretchen, it is possible there was some woman with him on the ship, or
in New York, and he may be a little muddled there. You can inquire at
the hotel where he stopped.'

This was Mr. St. Claire's advice, and Frank acted upon it, and took
immediate steps to ascertain if there had been a lady in company with
his brother at the Brevoort House, where he had stopped, or if there had
been any one in his company on the ship, which was still lying in the
dock at New York. But there no one had been with him. Arthur Tracy alone
was registered among the list of passengers, and only Arthur Tracy was
on the books at the hotel. He had come alone, and been alone on the sea
and at the hotel.

Gretchen was a myth, or at least a mystery, though he still persisted
that she would arrive with every train from Boston; and for nearly a
week they humored him, and the carriage went to meet her, until at last
there seemed to dawn upon his mind the possibility of a mistake, and
when the carriage had made its twentieth trip for nothing, and Mr. St.
Claire, who was standing by him on the platform when the train came up
and brought no Gretchen, said to him:

'She did not come.'

'I am afraid she will never come,' he answered, sadly. 'No, she will
never come. There has been some mistake. She will never come. Poor
little Gretchen!' Then, after a moment he added, but there _is_ a
Gretchen, and I wrote to her to join me in Liverpool, and I thought she
did and was with me on the ship and in the train, but sometimes, when my
head is so hot, I get things mixed, and am not sure but--' and he looked
wistfully in his companion's face, while his voice trembled a little.
'Don't let them shut me up; I have a suspicion that they will try it,
but it will do no good. I was in an asylum nearly three years near
Vienna; went of my own accord, because of that heat in my head.'

'Been in an asylum?' Mr. St. Claire said, wonderingly.

'Yes,' Arthur continued, 'I was only out three months ago. I wrote
occasionally to Frank and Gretchen, but did not tell them where I was.
They called it a _maison de sante_, and treated me well because I paid
well, but the sight of so many crazy people made