“Take him back to his seat, Vicars,” she said, “take him back. Adolphus!” The tottering, helpless woman stood up straight, and put her hand upon the madman’s breast. The eyes that had been blind with misery changed and dissolved as if to dew in their orbits, consolidated again, opened blue and strong like a relighted flame. She fixed them upon the staring red eyes of the maniac. “Adolphus, go back, be silent, calm yourself. There is no need for you to say anything. I am here to take care of you. Let Vicars put you back in your chair.” “I will not be taken,” he said, “I will not be taken! I can pay up. I have got money, plenty of money. I will pay up!” “Vicars,” cried Mrs. Harwood, imperiously, “put him back in his chair.” She held her hand on his breast, and fixed her eyes upon his, pushing him softly back. The roarings grew fainter, fell into a kind of whimpering cry. “I’ll pay it all--I have plenty of money. Don’t let them take me away--I’ll pay everything up!” “Go back and rest in your chair, Adolphus. Put him in his chair.” The astonished spectators all stood looking on while the old servant and this woman, whom force of necessity had moved from her own helplessness, subdued the maniac. Vicars had partially lost his head, he had lost control of his patient, but this unlooked-for help restored him to himself. Between them they drew and guided the patient back to the chair, which was fitted with some mechanical appliances, and held him fast. Mrs. Harwood seemed to forget her weakness entirely; she tottered no longer, but moved with a free step. She turned round upon the frightened policeman at the door. “Now go,” she said, “you have done your worst; whatever you want, go; you can get no further satisfaction here.” The intruder breathed more freely when he saw the madman sink into quietude. He said, with a voice that quivered slightly. “I am very willing to go: but that young gentleman has to go along with me!” “Come on,” cried the other man, whose teeth were chattering in his head. “Come on; we’ve got nothing to do here.” “I’m going: when that young gentleman makes up his mind to come with me.” “What young gentleman? Why, bless you, _that_ ain’t the young gentleman!” said the man, who had struggled out into the passage, and was now only kept from running by the other’s strong retaining grasp. It was not wonderful that the policeman was indignant. He let his friend go with an oath, and with a sudden push which precipitated him into the outer room. “You d----d fool! to have led me such a dance; and as much as our lives are worth, and come to nothing at the end.” The man fell backward, but got up again in a moment and took to his heels, with the noise as of a runaway horse in the dark passage. The policeman, reassured to see that the madman was secured, had the courage to linger a moment. He turned to Meredith with a defiant look.