Thought she might have saved him if she'd known
sooner, her uncle said."
"Ah," said Graycoat. "Why didn't this kind uncle put his nephew with
the doctor?"
"He wasn't his trustee," Bluelegs answered, quietly.
"Dear me," said Graycoat gently, "how fortunate for the nephew!"
"That's as you look at it," responded Bluelegs.
Caroline dozed in the warm shade; in dreams she chased the French
Queen around the iridescent fountain.
"Uncle any business--besides trusteeship?" asked Graycoat.
"You can search me," said Bluelegs.
"Niece about twenty-one, I take it?" asked Graycoat.
"Search me again," said Bluelegs.
"Should you think," Graycoat demanded, after a pause, "that this
incipient melancholia was likely to last long--speaking, of course,
professionally?"
"Really, Dr. Riggs, I don't know." Bluelegs replied. "I am not at
all in touch with the case. The doctor has entire charge of it. He
mentioned to me last week that he was sorry to see both in her and
young Dahl evidences of clearly formed delusions--"
"Young Dahl!" cried Graycoat, "why, the boy is an admitted
paranoiac!"
"Really?" said Bluelegs, "you know I don't do much but cocaine and
morphia, these days. Did you know the doctor was going to print my
pamphlet?"
"He can afford it, I judge," growled Graycoat.
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