The vicar was plainly annoyed. He caught up Dr. Joliffe sharply. “I am sorry to say that Brandon with all his merits is little better than an atheist.”
The tone and the manner were a little too much for Irish blood. “And so am I if it comes to that,” said Dr. Joliffe; and then like a true Hibernian he added: “And I thank God for it.”
The vicar and Dr. Parker were greatly pained by this indiscretion, but both were careful to refrain by word or gesture from making the slightest comment upon it.
“Well, Joliffe,” said the vicar, when at last he was able to achieve the necessary composure, “if you cannot see your way to act with us we must find someone who will.”
By now the blood of Dr. Joliffe was running dangerously high. But fresh with his talk with Brandon, which had greatly impressed him, he somehow felt that big issues were at stake. Therefore he must hold himself in hand.
“Mr. Perry-Hennington,” he said, after an inward struggle, in a voice scrupulously mild, “I must tell you that Mr. Brandon has offered to pay the fee of any mental specialist we may like to summon, and that he will abide by his decision.”
“Abide by his decision!” The words were unfortunate, but tact was not one of Dr. Joliffe’s virtues. “Very good of Brandon I’m sure. But may one ask where he stands in the matter?”
“He’s the friend of John Smith.”
“It hardly seems a friendship to be proud of.” The vicar continued to let off steam. “Still I think I see your point. The law entitles the man to have a friend to speak for him, and if Brandon constitutes himself his champion we can’t complain. What do you say, Parker?”
“By all means let him be given every chance,” said Dr. Parker, in a suave, judicial tone. “Personally I don’t think there is a shadow of a doubt that the man is of unsound mind, and I am convinced, after what you have told me, that he ought to be taken care of; but as Joliffe doesn’t agree, and as Mr. Brandon will pay a specialist’s fee, I am quite willing to meet him in consultation.”