"No, certainly not. It is quite unnecessary," he said. "Well, if you say so it's all right, Sir. Still, with a madman about, who may make a murderous attack on you...." "Where is he now?" "In his chambers." "Good-morning, Colonel!" said Stowell, and before the Chief Constable had replied he was gone. A few minutes later the policeman who, for the protection of the Deemster, was on point duty outside Gell's rooms was astonished to see the Deemster himself go up the carpetless staircase. At a door on the second landing, with Gell's name on it in white letters, he stopped and knocked. The door was not opened, but he heard shuffling steps inside and knocked again. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX OUT OF THE DEPTHS Alick Gell, also, had travelled far. After his temporary detention at Castletown, he had returned to Douglas in a frenzy. For four days everything had fed his fury. Having no housekeeper he took his meals in a neighbouring hotel which was frequented by his younger fellow-advocates. Sitting alone in a corner he spoke to none of them, but they seemed to be always speaking at him. In loud voices they praised Stowell--his eloquence, his knowledge, above all his impartiality, his superiority to the calls of friendship. This was gall and wormwood to Gell. He wanted to come face to face with Stowell that he might charge him with his treachery. He knew the police were watching him, but one day he eluded them and took the train to Ballamoar. It was evening when he got there. The cowman, who lived in the lodge, told him the master was out in his car and might not return until late. To beguile the time of waiting Gell walked in the lanes and woods about the house. These evoked both kind and cruel memories, the worst of them being the memory of the day when he stammered his excuses for loving Bessie Collister, and Stowell had said, "Good-bye and God bless you, old fellow!" What a scoundrel! The darkness gathered. There was the last bleating of the sheep, the last calling of the curlew (like the cry of a bird without a mate), and then night fell, dark night, without a star, and still Stowell did not come. Where was he? Gell thought he knew. He was at Government House with Fenella Stanley. They were reconciled, of course; they were kissing and caressing, while Bessie .... but no, he dare not think of that. What stung him most was the thought of the money he had taken from Stowell. It had been neither more nor less than the price of Bessie's honour. He remembered the Peel fisherman who had burnt his boat. How he wished he had the money now that he might ram it down Stowell's throat!