“I’d trust no man’s judgment before my own in anything,” said the vicar. “I’m no believer in the gloss that is put on everything nowadays. White is white, black is black, and two and two make four—that’s my creed, and no amount of intellectual smear is going to alter it. However, we shall not agree about Brandon, therefore we shall not agree about Dr. Moriarty. And as it will devolve upon our friend Parker to meet the specialist and issue the certificate, it seems to me only fair and reasonable that he should make his own choice.”
With a touch of professional rigor, Dr. Parker thought so too.
“Well, it’s immaterial to me,” said Dr. Joliffe, “as I’m retiring from the case. All the same I think it would be best for the squire to decide. He who pays the piper has a right to call the tune.”
“It doesn’t apply in this case,” said the vicar incisively. “One feels that one is making an immense concession in studying Brandon’s feelings in the way one is doing. You seem to forget, Joliffe, that we have a public duty to perform.”
“I am very far from forgetting it. But Brandon and I feel that we have also our duty to perform. And that is why I take the liberty to suggest that he should choose his own mental specialist.”
“Preposterous. What do you say, Parker?”
Dr. Parker tacitly agreed.
“Well,” said Dr. Joliffe, “if the squire will consent to Murfin, it’s all the same to me, but if my opinion is asked, I am bound to say that to my mind Moriarty is by far the abler man.”
“Why do you think so?” Dr. Parker asked.
“More modern in his ideas. Sees farther. Knows we are only at the threshold of a tremendous subject.”