“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.”