"You might be deceiving me. He may have died years ago."
"That might have been, but it is not so. Would you care to convince yourself? Come down and see him. He might recognize you."
"No," said M. Felix, with a shudder. "I will take your word."
"In bodily health, better than you would suppose; but his mind"--Dr. Peterssen did not complete the sentence, but watched with some curiosity the effect of his words upon his companion.
"He is really mad?" exclaimed M. Felix, eagerly.
"By no means. It is merely that he is plunged into a chronic melancholy. He passes days in silence, speaking not a word. I give him books, and sometimes he reads, but I am not sure whether he understands what he reads."
"No one but myself and those about me, who know him, as you are aware, as George Street, possessed with an insane idea that he is somebody else."
"Street's father--does he not come to see his son?"
"He does not. Long ago he took the advice I gave him, that it would be best and most merciful for him not to attempt to see his son. Had he not agreed with me, it might have been awkward. Once he came; and I fortunately happened to have in the house a patient absolutely mad, one given to loud raving. It was curious, was it not, that at the time of Mr. Street's visit this patient was in one of his strongest paroxysms? Mr. Street turned pale when he heard the shouts. 'Is that my poor son?' he asked. 'That is your poor son,' I answered. 'I will not answer for the consequences if his eyes fell upon you.' The father went away, with sighs, saying before he went, 'Nothing better can be done for him than you are doing?' 'Nothing better,' I answered. 'He is receiving every kindness here. In another establishment he would be worse off than he is with me.' He came no more, but I send him regular reports, and occasionally go to see him."
"Yes; he is a prosperous man." Dr. Peterssen rose. "Good-night. I will be here at noon. I must make my way through this awful storm as well as I can."
"May you perish in it!" thought M. Felix.
"It occurs to me," continued Dr. Peterssen, "that I ought to have some guarantee with me. You have some money about you?"
M. Felix took his pocketbook from his pocket, which Dr. Peterssen seized before he could open it.