Down at the desk again and said "Aunt Susan!" "Yes dear. " "Had breakfast?" "Yes indeed an hour ago. " "Busy?" "No--except sewing. Why?" "Got any company?" "No but I expect some at half past nine. " "I wish I did. I'm lonesome. I want to talk to somebody. " "Very well talk to me. " "But this is very private. " .
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Restlessly on the bunk. He has cracked up — no doubt about that. And the reason too is obvious — strain over- work too much responsibility. But there is no such explanation when he thinks about it for the behaviour of the others. The others are mad. Or they are. . . . . . not human. 'No ' he murmurs. 'Not Josephine and the boys. I'd realise it surely. Not Janet warm little Janet. Not Uncle Sidney and John and Fred Masterson and the women. And James Henry half believed the Patriots. He couldn't be one. Unless he was so cunning he. . . ' He rolls on the bunk. 'No ' he groans. 'No. ' John comes into the cabin. 'What's the matter old son ? What's bothering you now?' Ryan looks up at him wanting to trust his brother wanting to confide in him but he can't. 'Betray me. . . ' he mutters. 'You've.
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