“No police at all, if you please, Dr. Walton. The police are a body with which I wish to have no dealings. They have never done me any good. You have a house a little way out of town, where you keep patients who cannot control themselves. Take this man there as your guest, until I have time to communicate with his friends in England. He will be out of mischief and harm, and you will be doing a good action.” “You know his friends?” asked Dr. Walton, a little dubious whether he was not risking his professional reputation by taking this step. “Well, I am most intimate with his wife. She is a most flighty, ill-behaved little person. I fancy it is her shortcomings that have driven this poor man to desperation. Still, of course, she is the proper person to communicate with. Hark, how he is knocking at that door again--there really is no time to be lost. I do not believe there is a bit of whole furniture in the room.” Thus urged, Dr. Walton proceeded to do what she wished; in fact, he began to think that it was the only thing that could be done. To get this man away quietly was, however, the difficulty--he did not want a scene and a scandal. “Can you depend on the man on guard?” he asked. “For coin--yes,” she said, laughing, “money makes most people reliable--for a time.” “Well, stay where you are, and leave me to do the rest. I will return later, and let you know the result.” So saying, Dr. Walton proceeded to the room where Lord Francis was still knocking clamorously. He said a few words in a low tone to the man at the door, and then he proceeded to interview the supposed lunatic. To anyone less experienced than Dr. Walton, Lord Francis would certainly have seemed to be quite mad, but the doctor saw at once that he was merely suffering from excessive nervous excitement. A few days’ seclusion would, however, he thought, do him no harm, as by that time, with a little judicious treatment, he would probably be quite himself again. Was there something in Dr. Walton’s touch or look that soothed Lord Francis, predisposed as he was to hypnotic influence, or was the doctor armed with some calming anæsthetic--who shall say? But, as if by magic, rage and excitement subsided, and as though insensible to what was passing around, Lord Francis sank down once more into the chair in which he was sitting when he first saw Lucille de Vigny. Now he was entirely in the doctor’s power, he could do with him as he liked. The servant still outside the door was called into the room, and in less than five minutes Frank Onslow was transported to the doctor’s carriage, and was driven off to the private madhouse outside the city, of which Dr. Walton was the director. From her bedroom window, by the aid of a gas lamp in the street, Lucille de Vigny saw him depart. “Now,” she said, “you are mine, to do as I like with. You will not leave that place until you have absolutely given up Fenella--forever.”