The retort was so obvious, that Dr. Joliffe did not trouble to make it. When the vicar chose to look at things from the angle of his official status it was hardly worth while to argue with him. “May I ask what you said to Gervase Brandon?” “I told him what you proposed to do.” The vicar shook a dubious head. “Was that wise, do you think--in the circumstances?” Dr. Joliffe ignored the question. “I informed him also,” he added, “that I didn’t feel equal to taking such a great responsibility upon myself.” “You went so far as to tell him that?” “I did. This affair has cost me a great deal of anxiety since I saw you on Saturday. I feel very strongly that we ought to have further advice.” “We have it.” The vicar inclined a diplomatist’s head in Dr. Parker’s direction. “I told the squire,” said Dr. Joliffe, with a menacing eye upon Dr, Parker, “that I didn’t feel able to move in the matter without the advice of a mental specialist.” “The man is as mad as a hatter,” said Dr. Parker, with the air of a mental specialist. “But is he certifiable--that’s the point?” “He’s a source of danger to the community,” the vicar cut in. But Dr. Joliffe had asked Dr. Parker the question, and his eye demanded that Dr. Parker should answer it. “I think we may take Mr. Perry-Hennington’s word for that,” said Dr. Parker. “Well, with all deference,” said Dr. Joliffe, “the squire feels very strongly that the man ought not to be interfered with.” The vicar was plainly annoyed. He caught up Dr. Joliffe sharply. “I am sorry to say that Brandon with all his merits is little better than an atheist.” The tone and the manner were a little too much for Irish blood. “And so am I if it comes to that,” said Dr. Joliffe; and then like a true Hibernian he added: “And I thank God for it.” The vicar and Dr. Parker were greatly pained by this indiscretion, but both were careful to refrain by word or gesture from making the slightest comment upon it. “Well, Joliffe,” said the vicar, when at last he was able to achieve the necessary composure, “if you cannot see your way to act with us we must find someone who will.” By now the blood of Dr. Joliffe was running dangerously high. But fresh with his talk with Brandon, which had greatly impressed him, he somehow felt that big issues were at stake. Therefore he must hold himself in hand. “Mr. Perry-Hennington,” he said, after an inward struggle, in a voice scrupulously mild, “I must tell you that Mr. Brandon has offered to pay the fee of any mental specialist we may like to summon, and that he will abide by his decision.” “Abide by his decision!” The words were unfortunate, but tact was not one of Dr. Joliffe’s virtues. “Very good of Brandon I’m sure. But may one ask where _he_ stands in the matter?” “He’s the friend of John Smith.”