Page:Arthur Stringer--The House of Intrigue.djvu/201

Rh "I suppose you don't remember some advice you gave me, that first day I met you?" I asked. "About what?"

"About reading Browning," I reminded him.

"Did you?" he asked, with a new light in his face.

"I did," I acknowledged. "And it nearly drove me nuts!"

"Nuts?" he repeated. "Oh, yes; of course, nuts. By that I infer that you mean insane?"

"If you prefer it that way," I said. But I wasn't thinking of Browning, at the moment, for I'd just kicked the black bag to make sure it was at my feet.

"I'm afraid a great many of us are that way, if we only knew it," generalized my quiet-eyed companion, as he reached for a cigarette.

I had leaned forward against the table, and the pressure of Copperhead Kate's automatic under my waist made me suddenly think of other things.

"Do you know," I told the man across the table from me, "I rather believe the whole world has gone nuts!"

He did not speak for a moment or two.

"And to what do you attribute this—er—this somewhat disturbing belief?"

"To what I've gone through during the last six hours," was my prompt response.