The abrupt querulousness of the tone was so unlike Brandon that it rather disconcerted the vicar. “I have always found Whymper a very honest man,” he said soothingly. “And he is also a magistrate.” “Oh, yes, a local _Shallow_.” The vicar was hurt, but the high sense of duty was with him in his task. And that task was to tell Brandon in a few concise words of Dr. Parker’s visit, of his opinion of John Smith, and his views concerning him. “And I felt it my duty to come and tell you,” said the vicar, in a slow, calm, patient voice, “that Parker will meet a specialist in consultation. But the question now is, who shall it be? To my mind the point does not arise, but Joliffe, who I am sorry to say is not as helpful as he might be, is making difficulties. Parker would like Murfin, but Joliffe thinks Moriarty. But Murfin or Moriarty, what does it matter? They are both first-rate men; besides the case is so clear that it doesn’t present the slightest difficulty. It is really a waste of money to pay a big fee for a London opinion when a local man like Sharling of Brombridge would do quite as well.” Brandon shook his head. A look of grave trouble came into his eyes. “No,” he said, “this is a case for the best man the country can provide.” “Well, you shall choose him, my dear fellow,” Mr. Perry-Hennington’s air was all largeness and magnanimity. “Murfin or Moriarty, or why not such a man as Birdwood Thompson? He is in quite the front rank, I believe. But before you incur an expense that I’m convinced is unnecessary, I should like you to realize my own position in the matter. To my mind, it will be far kinder to have the man certified and quietly removed, rather than ask the law to take a course which may stir up local feeling in certain directions, and breed undesirable publicity in certain newspapers. Still that is neither here nor there. One is prepared to face all consequences, be what they may.” “Mr. Perry-Hennington,” said Brandon in a hollow tone, “I can’t help thinking that you are making a tragic mistake.” “The matter hardly admits of discussion I’m afraid. My duty lies before me. Cost what it may it will have to be done.” “But what possible harm is the man doing?” The vicar deprecated the question by spreading out his large, strong hands. “We can’t go into that,” he said in a kind tone. “We don’t see eye to eye. Believe me, a matter of this sort doesn’t admit of discussion. Besides it will only excite you. A man has to act in these things as his conscience directs.” “Yes, of course. But with all submission, one should try to keep a sense of proportion, shouldn’t one?” “I fully agree.” “Then why immure a constructive thinker?” In spite of the watch he was keeping on himself the vicar caught up the phrase almost with passion. But Brandon held his ground. “In common fairness,” he said, “I feel you ought to read his noble work before you take any action.” “Words, words, words.”