"Mother," said Mr. Catesby, with great pathos, "don't you know me?"

"He has brought bad news of Fred," said Mrs. Truefitt, turning to her
daughter; "I am sure he has."

"I don't understand you," said Mr. Catesby, with a bewildered glance from
one to the other. "I am Fred. Am I much changed? You look the same as
you always did, and it seems only yesterday since I kissed Prudence
good-bye at the docks. You were crying, Prudence."

Miss Truefitt made no reply; she gazed at him unflinchingly and then bent
toward her mother.

"He is mad," she whispered; "we must try and get him out quietly. Don't
contradict him."

"Keep close to me," said Mrs. Truefitt, who had a great horror of the
insane. "If he turns violent open the window and scream. I thought he
had brought bad news of Fred. How did he know about him?"

Her daughter shook her head and gazed curiously at their afflicted
visitor. She put his age down at twenty-five, and she could not help
thinking it a pity that so good-looking a young man should have lost his
wits.

"Bade Prudence good-bye at the docks," continued Mr. Catesby, dreamily.
"You drew me behind a pile of luggage, Prudence, and put your head on my
shoulder. I have thought of it ever since."