of this possible outcome at the very first, I suppose. But,
then, which one of us is always wise?"

So this adventure came to nothing. For its significance, if any,
hinged upon Robert Herrick's sanity, which was at best a disputable
quantity. Grant him insane, and the whole business, as Sir Thomas was
at large pains to point out, dwindles at once into the irresponsible
vagaries of a madman.

"And all the while, for what we know, he had been hiding somewhere in
the house. We never searched it. Oh, yes, there is no doubt he was
insane," said Sir Thomas, comfortably.

"Faith! what he moaned was gibberish, of course----"

"Oddly enough, his words were intelligible. They meant in Russian 'Out
of the lowest hell.'"

"But, why, in God's name, Russian?"

"I am sure I do not know," Sir Thomas replied; and he did not appear at
all to regret his ignorance.

But Borsdale meditated, disappointedly. "Oh, yes, the outcome is
ambiguous, Sir Thomas, in every way. I think we may safely take it as
a warning, in any event, that this world of ours, whatever its
deficiencies, was meant to be inhabited by men and women only."

"Now I," was Sir Thomas's verdict, "prefer to take it as a warning that
insane people ought to be restrained."

"Ah, well, insanity is only one of the many forms of being abnormal.
Yes, I think it proves that all abnormal people ought to be restrained.
Perhaps it proves that they are very potently restrained," said Philip
Borsdale, perversely.

Perversely, Sir Thomas always steadfastly protested, because he said
that to believe in Herrick's sanity was not conducive to your own.

So Sir Thomas shrugged, and went toward the open window. Without the
road was a dazzling gray under the noon sun, for the sky was cloudless.
The ordered trees were rustling pleasantly, very brave in their
autumnal liveries. Under a maple across the way some seven laborers
were joking lazily as they ate their dinner. A wagon lumbered by, the
driver whistling. In front of the house a woman had stopped to
rearrange the pink cap of the baby she was carrying. The child had
just reached up fat and uncertain little arms to kiss her. Nothing
that Browne saw was out of ordinary, kindly human life.

"Well, after all," said Sir Thomas, upon a sudden, "for one, I think it
is an endurable world, just as it stands."

And Borsdale looked up from a letter he had been reading. It was from
a woman who has no concern with this t