"
Turnbull gave one stamp upon the gravel, then pulled himself
together, and resumed: "But why should your infernal head
medicine-man lock us up in separate cells while he was turning
England into a madhouse? I'm not the Prime Minister; we're not
the House of Lords."
"He wasn't afraid of the Prime Minister," replied Dr. Hutton; "he
isn't afraid of the House of Lords. But----"
"Well?" inquired Turnbull, stamping again.
"He is afraid of you," said Hutton, simply. "Why, didn't you
know?"
MacIan, who had not spoken yet, made one stride forward and stood
with shaking limbs and shining eyes.
"He was afraid!" began Evan, thickly. "You mean to say that
we----"
"I mean to say the plain truth now that the danger is over," said
Hutton, calmly; "most certainly you two were the only people he
ever was afraid of." Then he added in a low but not inaudible
voice: "Except one--whom he feared worse, and has buried deeper."
"Come away," cried MacIan, "this has to be thought about."
Turnbull followed him in silence as he strode away, but just
before he vanished, turned and spoke again to the doctors.
"But what has got hold of people?" he asked, abruptly. "Why
should all England have gone dotty on the mere subject of
dottiness?"
Dr. Hutton smiled his open smile once more and bowed slightly.
"As to that also," he replied, "I don't want to make you vain."
Turnbull swung round without a word, and he and his companion
were lost in the lustrous leafage of the garden.
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