“Dangerously?” The tone was curt.
Dr. Parker slowly weighed out a careful reply.
“Not exactly, in an active sense. But there is no saying when he will become so. At any time acute mania may intervene.”
“It may, of course.” But it was a reluctant admission. Moreover, there was an implication behind it which Dr. Parker was not slow to understand. No love was lost between these two, nor was their estimate of each other’s professional abilities altogether flattering.
“Highly probable,” said Dr. Parker, in a warming tone.
“Contrary to my experience of the man. I’ve known him some years now, and though I’m bound to own that he has always seemed a bit cracked, it has never occurred to me that it was a case to certify, and with all deference I am not quite convinced even now.”
“But surely, Joliffe,” the vicar interposed, with some little acerbity, “the need for the course we propose to take was made clear to you on Saturday?”
The look of doubt deepened in Dr. Joliffe’s red face. “I’m very sorry”—there was obvious hesitation in the tone—“but you are really asking a general practitioner to take a great deal on himself.”
“But why?” There was a perceptible stiffening of the vicar’s voice. “I thought I had fully explained to you on Saturday what the alternative is. You see if we can’t get the man into an asylum quietly and humanely, he must be made amenable to the Defense of the Realm Regulations. If you would prefer that course to be taken I will go over to the Depot and see General Clarke. We are bound in honor to move in the matter. But Dr. Parker agrees with me that an asylum will be kinder to the man himself, less disturbing to the public mind, and therefore in the national interest.”
“I do, indeed,” said Dr. Parker.