“Joliffe,” said the vicar, in a tone of pain and surprise, “please understand that such a thing as imagination does not enter into this matter. We are face to face with a very unpleasant fact. There is a mad person in this parish, who goes about uttering stupid blasphemies, who openly sides with the enemy, and we have to deal with him in a humane, but practical and efficient way. Dr. Parker and I are agreed that the public safety calls for certain measures; we are also agreed that the national interest will be best served by their adoption. Are you ready to fall in with our views?--that is the question it is my duty to ask you.” Dr. Joliffe stroked a square jaw. He resented the vicar’s tone and at that moment he disliked Dr. Parker more intensely than he had ever disliked any human being. In Dr. Joliffe’s opinion both stood for a type of pharisee behind which certain reactionary forces, subtle but deadly, invariably intrenched themselves. But Dr. Joliffe, although cursed with an average share of human weakness, was at heart a fair-minded man. And his one desire, now that he was up against a delicate problem, was to hold the balance true between both parties. From the Anglo-Saxon standpoint the vicar and that old fool, Parker, were right no doubt; but from the Celtic outlook there was also something to be said of John Smith. “Now, Joliffe,” said the vicar, “please understand this. Our man has to be put away quietly, without any fuss. He will be very comfortable in the county asylum. I speak from experience. I go there once a month. Everything possible is done to insure the well-being of the inmates. It may be possible to let him take his books with him. He is a great reader, I hear--even writes verses of sorts. Anyhow I will speak to Dr. Macey about him at the first opportunity, and do all I can for his comfort and happiness.” But Dr. Joliffe compressed obstinate lips, and stared with a fixed blue eye at the storm clouds coming up from that dangerous quarter, the southwest. “By the way, as I think I told you,” continued the vicar, “I spoke to Whymper on Saturday evening. He sees as I do. And he said the bench would support my action, provided the man was duly certified by two doctors to meet the requirements of the Lord Chancellor. Now come, Joliffe, be reasonable.” But Dr. Joliffe shook a somber head. “I don’t like to do it on my own responsibility,” he said. “But you have our friend Parker to share it.” “The fact is,” said Dr. Joliffe slowly, “I walked as far as Hart’s Ghyll this morning to have a little talk with Brandon on the subject.” “Gervase Brandon!” To the mind of the vicar much was explained. “Wasn’t it rather a pity to trouble the poor fellow with a thing of this kind in his present condition?” “I understand that you didn’t hesitate to trouble him with it on Saturday.” “I did not. I felt it to be my duty.”