By no mental process, for which I could
ever account, had that idea been evolved. It sprang into life at a
bound. It came to me in my sleep, and I wakened at once with the whole
plan clear and distinct before my mind's eye, as it now lay clear and
distinct before Mr. Harringford.
"It is very extraordinary," I managed at last to stammer out; "for I can
honestly say I never heard even a suggestion of Mr. Elmsdale's design;
indeed, I did not know he had ever thought of building upon the ground."
"Such was the fact, however," replied my visitor. "He was a speculative
man in many ways. Yes, very speculative, and full of plans and projects.
However, Mr. Patterson," he proceeded, "all this only proves the truth
of the old remark, that 'great wits and little wits sometimes jump
together.'"
There was a ring of sarcasm in his voice, as in his words, but I did not
give much heed to it. The design, then, was not mine. It had come to me
in sleep, it had been forced upon me, it had been explained to me in a
word, and as I asked myself, By whom? I was unable to repress a shudder.
"You are not well, I fear," said Mr. Harringford; "this place seems to
have affected your health. Surely you have acted imprudently in risking
so much to gain so little.
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