"But," he began, "I—"
The doctor cried, explosively:
"Don't you try to argue with me, young man. I've neglected my practice and let everything go to the devil to come over here, and I don't want any of your dashed buts thrown at me. You get your hat and coat and you come with me. D'ye hear me?"
"I can't go," said Schuyler.
The doctor brought his flat fist down upon the center table.
"Can't go!" he howled. "In about a split second I'll show you whether you can't or not. You get your hat and coat! Or," he went on, "come without 'em. It's all the same to me. Parks can pack up your things, and come on the 'Transitania,' to-morrow. You're coming now. D'ye hear me? You're coming now—this dashed instant!"
He advanced upon Schuyler, gripping him by the arm. Schuyler stood for a brief moment, doggedly. Then suddenly his head dropped forward upon his breast.
"Very well," he acquiesced, slowly. Suddenly his voice broke. He almost whispered:
"I'm glad you've come, doctor…. I was helpless—utterly helpless."
They took the train within the hour. And the following morning found the "Vagrant" at sea, with John Schuyler on board. Yet it was a different John Schuyler from the one they had known. He had refused to shake hands with either Blake, or the doctor. He did not mention the woman; nor did they. They tried to be toward him as they had always been—as though all that had happened alone in imagination…. He did not sleep; he ate but little; and he drank, some.