It was a close race, and Mary Salis felt that, ere many minutes had passed, the strange force which had nerved her so that she had traversed the distance between the two houses, and then enabled her to go through the scene which followed, would fail; but still she struggled on, with their pursuers gaining so rapidly that the gate which gave upon the meadows had hardly been passed and dashed to, and the feeling that at last they were in comparative safety, given her fresh strength, when the two keepers came up, and without hesitation threw open the gate, and followed into the Rectory orchard. Joe Chegg had lowered his burden on to the ground as the men reached the gate. "What'll I do, miss?" "Stand by me," panted Mary, stooping to catch Horace's hand in hers; and then, sinking on one knee, she held to it tightly with both her own. "Stand by you, miss?" cried Joe. "Yes; I'll do that; but you run and call for help." "No, no," cried Mary; "I will not go." "Now, then," cried Joe, "what is it? You know you're a-trespassing here?" "You get out," growled one of the men; and he thrust the sturdy young fellow roughly aside. It was a mistake on the keeper's part, for Joe Chegg's father was a Bilston man, notorious in his time for the pugnacity of his life. His mantle, or rather his disposition to take off his coat, had fallen upon his son, and the result of the rude thrust was that Joe Chegg rebounded so violently that the keeper went staggering back, and by the time he recovered, and his companion was about to join in the attack, Joe had proved himself to be the son of his father, for his coat was lying on the ground. This was awkward. The keepers were accustomed to tussles with insane patients, and they were ready for a fight with Horace North, and to do anything to force him into the carriage waiting at the Manor House. But Joe Chegg was sane, sturdy, and had begun to square. A fight with the stout young Warwick man was not in their instructions, and they called a parley. "Look here, miss," said the one who had been struck surlily; "just call your bulldog off. We don't want no trouble, and you're doing a very foolish thing; so let us do our dooty and go." As he spoke he advanced, but a feint from Joe made him flinch, though he gave the young fellow a very ugly look. "This is an outrage," cried Mary, rising and speaking now firmly. "What does it mean?" "It means, madam," said a voice, as the tall, dark medical man who had visited twice at the Manor now came upon the scene, after a very hurried walk through the meadows--"it means, madam," he repeated, for he was breathless, "that Dr North is not in a fit condition to be at large." "It is not true!" cried Mary indignantly; though the recollection of what she had witnessed made her quail. "It is quite true, madam; and his nearest friends have taken steps to have him placed under proper treatment, where he can be restored to health."