“Reason? What reason is there in arresting an innocent man?” fumed Mrs. Porter. “Besides,” a gleam of hope lighting her eyes, “Dr. Noyes is not a citizen of the United States, but an Englishman.” “Well, ma’am, that doesn’t give him the right to come over here and murder law-abiding citizens,” retorted the sheriff bluntly. “No, he’s amenable to the law.” “I have not claimed otherwise,” exclaimed Noyes; he had been standing somewhat in the background. Moving forward he laid a persuasive hand on Mrs. Porter’s arm. “Do not worry; I can prove my innocence when brought to trial.” “But to subject you to such treatment!” wailed Mrs. Porter, her composure showing signs of giving way under the stress of her feelings. “And Craig--what of him? Is my son to die because you insist on taking his physician to jail?” addressing the harassed sheriff. “Law, ma’am, there’re plenty good American doctors.” But the sheriff’s well-meant suggestion brought no consolation. “They don’t understand Craig’s case. Secondly,” frigidly, “I don’t place any faith in country doctors.” “Call in Bev. Thorne, he only came back recently from city practice, and”--brightening--“he’s just across lots; ’most as handy as having him in the house.” Mrs. Porter’s face was a study. “I shall never permit Dr. Thorne to treat my son,” she announced, in her excitement utterly forgetting that she had sent for Thorne the night before. “He is personally distasteful to me, and I have no confidence in his ability. I tell you, sheriff, by taking away Dr. Noyes you will be directly responsible for my son’s death.” The sheriff moved uneasily. “Duty’s duty, ma’am,” he mumbled. “And,” suddenly suspicious, “I heard as how Mr. Craig was a great deal better.” “He was”--Mrs. Porter wrung her hands, and the anguish in her eyes stirred a responsive chord in the sheriff’s breast; he had lost a son--“but Craig has had a relapse. Oh, my God! Why did Bruce Brainard ever come to this house!” “Hush, aunt!” Wyndham shook her elbow slightly, and as she met his warning gaze she pulled herself together. “I will go bail for Dr. Noyes, sheriff; and he will stay with us until the next term of court.” Sheriff Nichols looked dubious. “Well, come along with us to the court,” he directed. “I reckon perhaps the judge will accept your bond; but it’s sure to be a pretty stiff one.” “I will sign the bond also,” put in Mrs. Porter swiftly. “I beg of you, sheriff, to hurry through the legal formalities and permit Dr. Noyes to return.” “Sure I will, if the judge permits.” The sheriff backed toward the door. “Come along, doctor, and get your grip, we might as well tote it with us; save a return trip in case the judge decides against the bond.” He turned to bow to Mrs. Porter and walked into the hall. Noyes led the way upstairs and paused outside his door. “Will you lend me your suitcase, Wyndham?” he asked. “I didn’t bring mine back with me yesterday.”