Meanwhile Ben had entered a third-class carriage—it behooved him to be economical now—and sat down. He was congratulating himself on his fortunate escape, when M. Bourdon dashed up to the station.
He entered the building, and was about passing to the platform, when he was stopped. "Your ticket, monsieur."
Just then came the signal for the train to start.
"Never mind the ticket!" shouted the doctor. "Don't stop me. One of my patients is running away."
"I can't help it," said the guard, imperturbably. "Monsieur cannot pass without a ticket."
"But I don't want to go anywhere," roared M. Bourdon. "I want to see the passengers."
To the railway attendant this seemed a very [255] curious request. He began to think the doctor, with his excitable manner, was insane. At any rate, he was obliged to obey the rules.
"Go back and buy a ticket, monsieur," he said, unmoved.
"But I don't want to go anywhere," protested M. Bourdon.
"Then go back!" And the official, placing his hand on the doctor's sacred person, thrust him forcibly aside.
"Fool! Dolt!" screamed M. Bourdon, who could hear the train starting.
"You must be crazy!" said the guard, shrugging his shoulders.
It was too late now. The train had actually gone, and M. Bourdon turned back, foiled, humiliated and wrathful. He regretted bitterly now that he had not let Francois off the evening before, as in that case Ben would not have had a chance to escape. Now he must lose the generous sum which Major Grafton had agreed to pay for his ward. It was more than he received for any other of his patients, for M. Bourdon, recognizing Ben's sanity, shrewdly surmised that the guardian had [256] some special design in having his ward locked up, and took advantage of it to increase the weekly sum which he charged.
And now all this was lost.
But no! A happy thought struck the worthy doctor. Ben had escaped, it is true, but why could not he go on charging for him just as before? His escape was not known to Major Grafton, and probably would not be discovered for a long time at least. The major was not very likely to visit the asylum, as an interview between him and his young victim would be rather embarrassing to him.
Yes, that was the course he would pursue. He would from time to time send in a report of his patient, and regularly collect his board, while he would be at no expense whatever for him. It was necessary, however, to take Francois into his confidence, and he drove back to the cottage of the humble attendant.
Francois was watching outside. He was afraid the doctor would succeed in capturing the boy, in whom he had begun to feel a strong interest. When he saw M. Bourdon [257] drive up alone he smiled to himself, though his features remained outwardly grave.
"Did you find him, sir?" he asked, respectfully.
"No," answered M. Bourdon, roughly. "The train had just started."
"And was he a passenger?"
"Doubtless."
"What will you do, Monsieur le Docteur?" Francois asked, curiously.
"Francois," said M. Bourdon, suddenly, "I am sorry for you."
"Why?" asked Francois, considerably surprised. "Is it because my little Marie is sick?"
"Plague take your little Marie! It is because you have helped the boy to escape."
"How could I help him, sir?"
"Some one must have unlocked the door of his room. Otherwise, he could not have got out."
"I don't know, monsieur," said Francois, assuming ignorance.
"When did you first see him?"
"I had walked about a quarter of a mile," [258] said Francois, mendaciously, "when he ran up and overtook me. I told him to go back, but he would not. He followed me, and came here."
"This story is by no means ingenious," said the doctor, shaking his head. "When you stand up in a court of justice you will see how the lawyers will make you eat your words. And very likely they will send you to prison."
"Oh, no! Don't say that!" said poor Francois, much frightened. "What would become of my poor wife and child?"
"You should have thought of them before this."
"Oh, Monsieur le Docteur, you will save me from prison!" exclaimed poor, simple-minded Francois.
"On one condition."
"Name it, monsieur."
"Let no one know that the boy has escaped."
"I will not, if you desire it."
"You see, it will be bad for me as well as for you. It was very important to keep him—very [259] important, indeed—and his friends will call me to account. But they need not know it, if you remain silent."
"No one shall hear me say a word, Monsieur le Docteur," said Francois, promptly.
"That is well. In that case I will overlook your disobedience, and allow you to return to your place."
"Oh, monsieur is too good!" said Francois, who did not by any means anticipate such magnanimous forgiveness.
"When can you come back?"
"When monsieur will."
"Come, then, this evening. It will be in time. I will allow you to spend the day with your family, since your child is sick."
The doctor turned his horse's head, and drove back to the asylum.
Three days after he wrote to Major Grafton:
"My Dear Sir: Your ward is rather sullen, but quiet. He was at first disposed to make trouble, but the firm and effective discipline of the institution has had the usual result. I allow him to amuse himself with reading, as this seems to be the best way of keeping him quiet and contented. His insanity [260] is of a mild kind, but it is often precisely such cases that are most difficult to cure. You may rely, Monsieur Grafton, upon my taking the best care of the young gentleman, and, as you desired, I will especially guard against his obtaining writing materials, lest, by a misrepresentation of his condition, he might excite his friends.
"I thank you for your promptness in forwarding my weekly payments. Write me at any time when you desire a detailed account of your ward's condition."
M. Bourdon signed this letter, after reading it over to himself, with a complacent smile. He reflected that it did great credit to his ingenuity.
"Some men would have revealed the truth," he said to himself, "and lost a fine income. I am wiser."
In due time this letter reached Major Grafton.
"That is well," he said to himself. "I am rather sorry for the boy, but he has brought it on himself. Why must he be a fool, and threaten to blab? He was living in luxury, such as he has never been accustomed to before, and he might rest content with that. In me surely he had an indulgent master. I [261] rarely gave him anything to do. He could live on the fat of the land, see the world at no expense to himself, and have all the advantages of a rich man's son. Well, he has made his own bed, and now he must lie in it. On some accounts it is more agreeable to me to travel alone, and have no one to bother me."
To avert suspicion, Major Grafton left the Hotel des Bergues and took up his quarters at another hotel. At the end of two weeks he left for Italy, having arranged matters satisfactorily by sending M. Bourdon a month's payment in advance, an arrangement that suited the worthy doctor remarkably well.