In a moment she seized the packet and rushed into the house, and upstairs, never taking breath till the doors were locked behind her, and that she was safe in her room with the child, from whence she could see the road. The struggle went on and Paul was nearly overpowered, when the servant interfered, and, catching hold of Mr. Drayton's uplifted arm, told Paul to go. "I will go if you will promise to protect Mrs. Drayton from this madman till help come to her," he gasped, bruised and breathless, but feeling that it had not all been a failure since he had given her hope. "She won't hurt," said the man, "but I'm not going to stop. I would not stay with him," he said, contemptuously, "not for double the money." "But you will stay till some one comes, will you not?" Paul asked, more afraid than ever. "He'll have to look sharp then," said the man. "I've told the doctor my mind, and that its a case of asylum, but he did not choose, he does not choose, to believe me, and I am not going to stay here to be murdered, I can tell you. It's two men's work to look after him, and he's that cunning he speaks the doctor fair when he comes, and the doctor's a fool besides." Paul lost no time--he rushed out of the house and made his way to an hotel, where he tried to remove all signs of the frightful struggle he had just had, and to sally forth before his old spruce self. What ought to be his first step? He must lose no time--leaving Margaret even for a day in the power of that madman was horrible to him. Even Grace was not thought of; clutching his papers, he went to the magistrate who presided over the district court and sent in his card and asked for an interview. At first he was received with natural suspicion, his face was swollen and he looked altogether as though he had been mixed up in a fray, though his dress was so carefully arranged--but the merit of reality was there, and he sketched in glowing colours poor Margaret's position and the treatment he had received, and what he feared for her, in simple language free from exaggeration. The magistrate consulted his clerk and sundry authorities with a deliberation truly maddening. "I am searching for a precedent," he said, looking up at young Lyons, who was almost stamping with impatience. He turned over leaves, backwards and forwards, and read and re-read passages pointed out to him by the clerk. Then he looked up, a bright idea having dawned upon him, and, keeping his first finger on a particular line, said: "Are you the lady's nearest male relation?" "No, I am not. Her only male relation is very ill in Scotland." "Are you any relation of hers?" "No; I am her friend." "My _dear_ sir," said the magistrate, "why take up my time in this way? You have no right to interfere--there is no precedent for such a thing, no precedent at all," and he got up and stood leaning his knuckles on the table and looking at Paul Lyons as though his ignorance of the law was almost worthy of compassion.