"Now that is peculiar," he said. "Ronnie's mental condition is a perfectly amiable one, unless anything was said or done to cause him extreme provocation. In fact, he would not be easily provoked. He is inclined rather to take a maudlinly affectionate and friendly view of things and people; to be very simply, almost childishly, pleased with the last new idea. That wretched Infant of his is a case in point. I should be glad if you would tell me, sir, what happened in this room just before Ronnie hit out."
"Merely a conversation about the 'cello," replied Aubrey, hurriedly. "A perfectly simple remark of mine apparently annoyed him. But I soon pacified him. He was obviously not responsible for his actions."
"He was obviously in a frenzy of rage," remarked Dr. Dick, drily; "and he caught you a good one on the mouth. Did he apologise afterwards?"
"He fell asleep," said Aubrey, "and appeared on awaking to have absolutely forgotten the occurrence."
Dick got up, put his hands in his pockets, walked over to the organ, and, bending down, examined the stops. He whistled softly to himself as he did so.
Aubrey, meanwhile, had the uncomfortable sensation that the whole scene with Ronnie was being re-acted, with Dick Cameron as an interested spectator.
It tried Aubrey's nerves.
"I do not wish to hurry you," he suggested presently. "But if I am to post my letter to my cousin before midnight, the sooner I am able to write it, the better."
Dick turned at once and took up his ulster.
Aubrey, relieved, came forward cordially to lend him a hand.