"Don't be alarmed. Notwithstanding my unceremonious entrance, I assure you, I am a perfectly respectable member of society. My name is Crichton."
The girl staggered to her feet. "Crichton?" she gasped.
"Yes, Crichton. Do you know any member of my family by any chance? My cousin, Lord Wilmersley, has a place near here."
"No," she faltered, "I--I am quite a stranger in this part of the country."
He was sure she was lying, but what could be her object in doing so? And why had his name caused her such alarm? What unpleasant connection could she possibly have with it? The only male members of his family who bore it, were, a curate, serving his probation in the East End of London, and a boy at Eton.
"That is a pity," he said. "I hoped we might find some mutual friends who would vouch for my inoffensiveness. I can't tell you how sorry I am to have given you such a fright. It was unpardonably stupid of me. The fact is, I am rather absent-minded, and I should have been left behind if I had not tumbled in on you as I did. Please forgive me."
"On the contrary, it is I who should apologise to you for having made such a fuss about nothing. You must have thought me quite mad." She laughed nervously.
"Madam," he replied, with mock solemnity, "I assure you I never for a moment doubted your sanity, and I am an expert in such matters."
"Are you really?" She shrank farther from him.
"Really what?" he inquired, considerably puzzled.
"A--a brain specialist? That is what they are called, isn't it?"
"Why should you know that I am a soldier?"
She blushed vividly. "You don't look like a civilian."
"At all events I hope I don't look like the keeper of an insane asylum."
"Oh, as to being an expert. Was that it? I must plead guilty to having attempted a feeble joke, though as a matter of fact, it so happened that I do know something about lunatics."
"On general principles, of course, I am afraid of nothing, but I fancy a full-grown lunatic, with a carving knife and a hankering for my blood, would have a different tale to tell."
"Oh, don't speak of them!" She covered her eyes with her hands.
"Why should you beg my pardon?" she asked looking at him suspiciously.
"I know that I am behaving like a hysterical schoolgirl. What must you think of me! But,--but I am just recovering from an illness and am still very nervous, and the mere mention of lunatics always upsets me. I have the greatest horror of them."