that Hall of Eblis, whose hearts were a devouring
fire. Even an inspector with a naked eye
would no longer have distinguished him at first
sight from a lunatic of the unhappiest class, the
melancholiac.

Ipse suum cor edens hominum vestigia vitans.

Mrs. Archbold looked on and saw this sad
sight not with the pity it would once have caused,
but with a sort of bitter triumph lightened by no
pleasure, and darkened by the shadow of coming
remorse. Yet up to this time she had shown
none of that inconstancy of purpose which marks
her sex; while she did go far to justify the poet's
charge:

Nor Hell a fury like a woman scorned.

Rooke had a hint to provoke Alfred to violence
such as would justify them in subjecting so
popular a patient to bodily restraint, composing
draughts, and other quick maddeners. Rooke
entered into the game zealously from two motives;
he was devoted to Mrs. Archbold, and he hated
Alfred, who had openly defied him and mortified
his vanity about Frank Beverley.

One Saturday Alfred was ordered out to walk
with Rooke and Hayes and Vulcan. He raised
no objection; suspected, felt homicidal,
suppressed the impulse, and by this self-command
he got time to give that letter to Beverley with
instructions.

But, all the walk, he was saying to himself that
Julia was in the house, and he was kept away
from her, and a rival with her; this made him
sicken and rage by turns. He came back in a
state verging on fury.

On entering the yard poor Beverley, who had
done his bit of cunning, and by reaction now
relapsed into extra simplicity, came running, and
said, "I've done it; she has got it."

"What have you done? Who has got what?"

"Don't tell, Frank."

"If you don't, I'll shake your life out, ye
young blackguard," cried Rooke, seizing him and
throttling him till he was black in the face.

Alfred's long-pent fury broke out: he gnashed
his teeth and dashed his fist in Rooke's face.

Rooke bellowed with pain and anger, and,
rushing at him incautiously, received a stinger
that staggered him, and nearly closed his right
eye. He took the hint, and put himself in a
posture that showed he was skilled in the art of
self-defence. He stopped two blows neatly, and
returned a heavy one upon the ribs. Alfred
staggered back some steps, but steadied himself,
and, as Rooke rushed in too hastily to improve
his advantage, caught him heavily on the other
eye, but lost his own balance a little, which
enabled Rooke to close; then came a sharp short
rally of re-echoing blows, and Rooke, not to be
denied, got hold of his man, and a wrestling bout
ensued, in which Alfred being some what weakened
by misery and broken rest, Rooke's great weight
and strength enabled him, after a severe struggle,
to fall with his antagonist under him, and knock
the breath out of his body for the moment. Then
Hayes, who had stood prudently aloof, came in
and helped handcuff him; they could not walk
up and down him for the Robin, who stood by
with a professional air to see fair play.

"Ah, cold iron is your best chance," he said
satirically. "Never you mind, sir: you hit quick
and well: I'd back you at long odds in the ring:
both his peepers are in deep mourning." He
added, "A cow can beat a man wrestling."

When Alfred was handcuffed they turned him
loose. It soon transpired, however, that he was
now a dangerous maniac (Formula), and to be
confined in the noisy ward.

On hearing this he saw the trap he had fallen
into; saw and trembled: he asked himself what
on earth he should do; and presently the saying
came back to him, "And this is the highest stroke
of art to turn evil into good." He argued thus:
Wolf's love of money is my great evil: he will
destroy me for money, do anything for money.
Then suppose I offer him money to be honest.
He begged an interview with Dr. Wolf on business.
This was accorded at once. He asked the
doctor plump whether he received a large sum to
detain him under pretence of insanity.

"Not very, considering the trouble you
sometimes give, Mr. Hardie," was the dry reply.

"Well, then, justice shall outbid rascality for
once. I am a sane man, and you know it; a
man of my word, and you know it. I'll give
you a thousand pounds to let me out of this
place."

Dr. Wolf's eyes sparkled.

"You shall have any bond or security you
like; and the money within a week of my
deliverance."

Dr. Wolf said he should be delighted to do it,
if he could conscientiously.

At this piece of hypocrisy Alfred's cheek
reddened, and he could not speak.

"Well, well, I do see a great change in you
for the better," said Dr. Wolf. "If, as I
suspect, you are convalescent, I will part with
you without a thousand pounds or a thousand
pence."

Alfred stared. Had he mistaken his man?

"I'll tell you what, though," said the smooth
doctor. "I have got two pictures, one by
Raphael, one by Corregio."

"I know them," said the quick-witted Alfred;
"they are worth more than a thousand pounds."

"Of course they are, but I would take a
thousand pounds from you"

"Throw me in my liberty, and I'll make it
guineas."

"We will see about that." And with this
understanding the men of business parted. Dr.
Wolf consulted Mrs. Archbold then and there.

"Impossible," said she; "the law would
dissolve such a bargain, and you would be exposed
and ruined."

"But a thousand pounds!" said the poor
doctor.

"Oh, he offered me more than that," said
Mrs. Archbold.