“I do.” The vicar spoke with his habitual air of decision. “I feel very strongly that it will be in the public interest. In fact, I go further. I feel very strongly that it will be in the national interest to have this man certified as a lunatic.” “He seems a singularly harmless creature.” “There is always the fear that he may get worse. But apart from that, he is having a bad effect on weak, uneducated minds. He already pretends to powers he doesn’t possess, and has taken lately to faith-healing, and mischievous nonsense of that kind.” The rubicund visage of Dr. Parker assumed a grave, professional look. “There can be no doubt,” he said, “that he is on the verge of, if he is not already suffering from, mania.” “In a word,” said the vicar, “you fully agree that it will be wise to have him taken care of?” “From what you have told me,” said Dr. Parker, with professional caution, “I am inclined to think that, in a time like the present, it may be the right course to adopt.” “Very well,” said the vicar gravely. “Let us now go and see Joliffe, and get him to indorse your opinion as the law requires. And then tomorrow morning I will run over to Grayfield and get Whymper to move in the matter without delay.” XVII THE vicar and Dr. Parker slowly descended the long, straggling village street, until they came to Dr. Joliffe’s gate. They found their man at home. In shirt sleeves and pipe in mouth he was mowing the back lawn with a very creditable display of energy for a householder of fifty-five, on an extremely oppressive afternoon. The perspiring Dr. Joliffe donned a light alpaca coat, and then led his visitors to the summerhouse at the bottom of the garden, where they could talk without fear of being overheard. The vicar began at once in a concise, businesslike way. “Dr. Parker has seen John Smith. And he is quite ready to certify him.” “Hopelessly mad, poor fellow, I’m afraid,” said Dr. Parker. A quick frown passed across the face of Dr. Joliffe. “Dangerously?” The tone was curt. Dr. Parker slowly weighed out a careful reply. “Not exactly, in an active sense. But there is no saying when he will become so. At any time acute mania may intervene.” “It may, of course.” But it was a reluctant admission. Moreover, there was an implication behind it which Dr. Parker was not slow to understand. No love was lost between these two, nor was their estimate of each other’s professional abilities altogether flattering. “Highly probable,” said Dr. Parker, in a warming tone. “Contrary to my experience of the man. I’ve known him some years now, and though I’m bound to own that he has always seemed a bit cracked, it has never occurred to me that it was a case to certify, and with all deference I am not quite convinced even now.” “But surely, Joliffe,” the vicar interposed, with some little acerbity, “the need for the course we propose to take was made clear to you on Saturday?”