Mr. Ricaby was not mistaken when he said that Bascom Cooley never admitted defeat and would stop at nothing to gain his ends. The situation, as far as Jimmy Marsh and Cooley were concerned, was certainly desperate. Even in the short time that Jimmy had had Paula's fortune under his control, he had so mismanaged it—to employ only a polite term—as to make his guardianship little short of a scandal. Wall Street, race horses, and the card table had already swallowed a considerable part of the Marsh millions, and that a goodly share of the money had gone to Jimmy's unscrupulous lawyer no one could doubt. A day of reckoning must come sooner or later.

Both men knew this well, and Mr. Cooley also knew that whatever exposure and punishment awaited the ward's uncle would also implicate himself. The important thing, therefore, was to put off that day as long as possible, if not altogether, and the resourceful Cooley was not slow in hitting upon an idea. The girl, he said, must not be permitted to claim her estate. In a few more weeks she would be of age and legally entitled to demand of her uncle an accounting of his stewardship. There was no time to be lost. They must show that the girl was incapable of taking care of her own affairs. Was not her conduct strange and eccentric enough to justify this belief? Had she not flatly refused to live with her uncle, preferring the small, uncomfortable quarters of a cheap boarding house to a luxurious suite in a fine residence? Did she not associate habitually with socialists, paupers, and other undesirables? Were there not rumors that she had affianced herself to the almost imbecile son of her landlady? Had she not announced her intention to give all her money to these people, once it came into her possession? Was she not at all times highly nervous, morose, melancholy? Did she act rationally? What were all these traits and eccentricities but proof of an unsound mind?

It was a very sad state of affairs, of course, but the truth was that the young woman was mentally unbalanced and needed the rest cure. She should be sent somewhere where her special case could receive proper attention. At first Jimmy was staggered by this audacious proposal. There were some lengths to which even he hesitated to follow Cooley. But his resistance was not long lived. When the lawyer, without mincing words, showed him in what peril he stood and that this step was necessary if he wished to be spared the ignominy of wearing prison stripes, he gave way. The next question was the method of procedure. How could the girl be placed in an institution without regular commitment papers? Again, Mr. Cooley sprang into the breach. Dr. Zacharie would swear to anything for a consideration.

Mr. Cooley next went before a judge of a competent court, and petitioned for an order for the commitment to an asylum of Paula Marsh, a minor and ward of his client, Mr. James Marsh, on the alleged ground that she was of unsound mind and liable to do injury to someone. At the same time he submitted an affidavit sworn to by Dr. Zacharie, a recognized specialist in nervous and mental diseases, to the effect that on several occasions when he had observed and examined the said Paula Marsh, he had found her highly nervous and excitable and subject to hallucinations. On one occasion, in his presence, she had uttered threats of bodily violence against the said James Marsh. The court thereupon appointed physicians to examine the said Paula Marsh, the physicians being Dr. McMutrie, visiting inspector of the State Asylum for the Insane, and Professor Bodley, a country doctor recommended by Cooley. If in the opinion of these medical experts the girl was insane, commitment papers would be granted. Armed with this formidable mandate of the court, Mr. Cooley gathered his forces and made his sudden raid on Mrs. Parkes' boarding house.

It was in vain that the landlady tried to bar the way. The burly lawyer, more aggressive than ever, now that he felt himself armed with the authority of the Court, roughly pushed his way in.

"Now, my good lady," he said coaxingly, in a clumsy effort to be amiable. "I will assume the entire responsibility and that ought to relieve you of any further anxiety."

"I know, sir," said Mrs. Parkes, "but Mr. Ricaby's orders——"

Paula had already taken refuge in her own room. Harry tried to prevent Cooley's further entrance.

"Miss Marsh doesn't want to see you," he said. "Her orders were——"

Before he could complete what he was going to say the muscular Mr. Cooley gave him a push that nearly knocked him over.

"All orders are superseded by an order of the court!" he retorted. Going back to the door, he called out to others waiting in the hall: "Come in, gentlemen!"

A strange and lugubrious procession filed into the parlor. First came Dr. Zacharie, his swarthy face beaming with insolent triumph. Behind him was Dr. McMutrie, the State Inspector, a smooth-faced keen-eyed man, and close at his heels trotted Professor Bodley, a fat, asthmatic person with spectacles and side whiskers. Jimmy Marsh, feeling anything but at ease, brought up the rear. Solemn-faced and ominous-looking, the doctors stood in a row, waiting for further developments.

"This is an outrageous intrusion!" cried Mrs. Parkes.

"Nonsense!" retorted Mr. Cooley. Pointing to Jimmy Marsh he exclaimed: "This gentleman is appointed special administrator and guardian of the Marsh estate, and as such is empowered to take any steps he may deem necessary to effect an interview with his niece." Waving the other gentlemen to chairs, he said: "Sit down, gentlemen."

The doctors, thus invited, took chairs in a semi-circle on one side of the table. Dr. McMutrie, as head of the insanity commission, sat in the centre. On his right was Dr. Zacharie and on his left Professor Bodley. Directly they were seated Dr. Zacharie put before his colleagues a number of papers which they proceeded to peruse carefully.

Jimmy sat in a corner, nervously twirling his thumbs while Mr. Cooley waited impatiently for Paula to come in. At last, his patience exhausted, he turned to the landlady. Pointing to the room on the left, he asked:

"Isn't that her room?"

"Yes, sir," replied Mrs. Parkes hesitatingly, "but——"

The lawyer advanced as if about to force his way in, but Harry Parkes sprang forward and barred the way. If ever there was an opportunity to display his devotion and heroism, it was surely now.

"This is an unwarrantable intrusion!" he cried indignantly. "If you don't desist I—I shall call an officer!"

Mr. Cooley shrugged his shoulders contemptuously.

"Please do," he chuckled, "and I'll have you arrested for obstructing a special appointee of the court in the performance of his duty." Staring at Harry, he went on: "Let me see—you're the young chap who entertains the absurd notion of marrying Miss Marsh. You're Henry Parkes, are you not?"

Harry looked uncomfortable.

"Yes, sir."

"Well, let me inform you, Mr. Parkes," said the lawyer grimly, "that any marriage ceremony with Miss Marsh, without the consent of her uncle, will not only be illegal, but it will also render you liable to imprisonment for contempt of court."

"What!" cried Harry frightened. "Imprisonment!"

"Precisely!" rejoined the lawyer, "and I now notify you that until these gentlemen have decided whether Miss Marsh is competent to enter into a marital engagement, contract, or promise, any such engagement, contract, or promise is null and void and can in no way or manner become the basis for any legal action on your part. I think that will be about all." He coughed and looked around for admiration.

"There is no promise," gasped Harry terrified; "no engagement—nothing."

"No, sir," exclaimed Mrs. Parkes, with a low curtsy. "Indeed, there isn't."

"A very sensible way to look at it," replied the lawyer with a grim smile of satisfaction, "and now, my good lady, please tell Miss Marsh that we are waiting for her."

Jimmy Marsh came forward, his manner fidgetty and nervous.

"Perhaps my niece may not be quite prepared," he stammered. "In that case you will tell her that we will wait for her."

"Quite so," chimed in Cooley. "That is—we'll wait a reasonable time."

"We'll be very gentle with her," added Jimmy considerately.

"Very well, sir," said Mrs. Parkes, now thoroughly cowed. She crossed the room and knocked at Paula's door. Receiving no answer, she knocked again. At last a voice called out:

"Who's there?"

"It's only me, dear—Mrs. Parkes."

There was the sharp click of a key being turned. The door was opened cautiously. The landlady went in and the door slammed to again.

"And now, young man," said Mr. Cooley, who had watched the proceedings without comment. "If you will kindly withdraw we shall all regard your absence most favorably."

Thoroughly intimidated by the lawyer's domineering manner, Harry went sheepishly towards the door. As he reached the threshold he turned and said timidly:

"Of course you understand, sir, that there is no engagement of any sort—there never was."

With a gesture the lawyer waved him to be gone.

"That's all right," he said disdainfully.

As he disappeared the lawyer turned to see what the commission was doing. All the doctors were busy. Dr. McMutrie was deeply engrossed in the reading of a voluminous report. Professor Bodley, not quite sure what was expected of him, was glancing over some newspaper clippings and trying to look wise. Dr. Zacharie rose and held out a paper which he had selected from a number of others spread out on the table before him.

"This, gentlemen," he said pompously, "is the daily report—a very minute observation."

"Hum!" growled the inspector, looking up, "I don't see anything very serious so far."

"Do you anticipate any trouble?" whispered Jimmy to Mr. Cooley.

"I don't anticipate it," rejoined the lawyer dryly, "but I'm prepared for it. If it comes, Bascom Cooley will be on deck." Confidently he added: "McMutrie is the only hard nut we have to crack. He's one of those d——d conscientious fellows. He may ask awkward questions. Zacharie is ours—and Bodley is a d——d fool. He's liable to jump in any direction, but he'll follow McMutrie in the final say. Zacharie is the family physician, and that always carries conviction."

"We were very lucky to get him," chuckled Jimmy.

"Hush!" commanded Cooley. "Dr. McMutrie is talking to you." In a warning undertone, he added: "Take care what you say!"

"Has your niece ever threatened you personally, Mr. Marsh?" demanded Dr. McMutrie.

"Specifically no—constructively yes," answered Cooley promptly for his client.

The inspector looked annoyed.

"Excuse me, Mr. Cooley," he snapped. "I addressed Mr. Marsh."

Jimmy turned red and shuffled uneasily on his feet. Quickly he said:

"Yes, I should say so. Yes, her manner was always very—very—I should say quite threatening."

"It's all there in the affidavit," said Mr. Cooley.

Ignoring the interruption, Dr. McMutrie went on:

"Has she ever made a personal threat against your life—in your hearing?" Pointing to the paper in his hand, he said impatiently: "These statements are all more or less vague."

"The affidavit of the family physician bears that out," interrupted Cooley again.

Dr. McMutrie frowned.

"Mr. Marsh, will you please answer my questions? Yes, or no."

"Yes," said Jimmy positively.

"She has?"

"Yes, sir. I'm in actual fear of my life—that's the whole truth."

Mr. Cooley beamed satisfaction.

"Yes," he said quickly, "my client can never tell when this girl's mania for the punishment of imaginary wrongs inflicted on her may not assume the form of personal violence. We have thirty witnesses who can prove the existence in this unfortunate girl's mind of the most unaccountable, unreasonable desire to—to inflict something she calls retribution on this innocent man's head. Oh, it's a positive danger—a positive danger!"

Professor Bodley peered over his spectacles and grew reminiscent.

"I remember," he said, "a case up the State, where that condition resulted in a fatal shooting affair."

"Of course," exclaimed Cooley eagerly, glad to grasp at any straw, "that's just it. It isn't her ridiculous notion about money—or the fact that she is being sought in marriage by penniless paupers. It's the fear of violence which prompts us to ask that she be taken care of, and watched, at least for a time, for her own sake absolutely—for her own sake."

The inspector's face grew grave.

"Quite so—quite so," he said thoughtfully.

Professor Bodley held up a newspaper clipping.

"Is it really a fact," he demanded, "that Miss Marsh stated that she intended to contribute a large sum of money to——" He stopped a moment to consult the clipping and then read on: "An institution for the development of the psychic self in domestic animals?"

"That's sworn testimony!" exclaimed Mr. Cooley, pointing to the newspaper.

"It's a positive fact," nodded Dr. Zacharie affirmatively, "she told me so herself."

"Animal-psychology is decidedly far fetched," laughed the professor. "It seems to me that the human race has a hard enough time in developing its own soul."

He threw himself back into his chair convulsed at his own humor.

"Rather good," grinned Cooley, joining in the merriment.

"Of course," went on Dr. Zacharie gravely, "these strange ideas may mean nothing. But with the delusion of imaginary wrongs a violent mania may develop. You never can tell where it will lead. A case of this sort needs close study."

Jimmy nodded approval.

"Just so," he said. "A year or so of rest in the calm seclusion of some country retreat would do the poor girl so much good. It might work a complete cure—don't you think so?"

Mr. Cooley gave him a nudge.

"Hush!" whispered the lawyer.

Up to this point the lawyer had followed the proceedings eagerly, highly gratified at the progress made, but Jimmy's loquaciousness threatened to spoil everything. Aloud he said:

"Er—these gentlemen will form their own opinions. Whatever is best will be done. If your niece is, as I fear, hopelessly incompetent, you can rely on them to—to—take the proper step to prevent any catastrophe."

"Her attitude is certainly very significant," said Dr. Zacharie pointedly.

Dr. McMutrie was still sceptical. Dryly he said:

"Yes, it signifies that she dislikes her relatives, but dislike of one's relatives is not necessarily a sign of mental derangement. I know some very excellent people who cannot bear the sight of their relatives."

"On the other hand," retorted Mr. Cooley, "Hamlet hated his uncle, and it developed into a general mania for killing people. If he'd been properly restrained five innocent lives would have been saved."

"Five lives—that is not in the medical records, is it?" demanded Professor Bodley anxiously.

"Shakespeare killed them—not Hamlet," laughed Dr. McMutrie.

"Still," said Mr. Cooley significantly, "it's a good object lesson."

"We don't need object lessons from playwrights," rejoined Dr. McMutrie sharply.

"Certainly not," chuckled the professor.

"Hush!" exclaimed Jimmy. "Here comes my niece!"

The door of the little room opened, but it was not Paula. Mrs. Parkes appeared instead.

"She won't come, sir," said the landlady apologetically. "I told her, and I tried to persuade her, but she wouldn't."

"Then we'll go to her," said Mr. Cooley determinedly.

He made a motion as if he would use force, but Mrs. Parkes, alarmed, held up her arms entreatingly.

"No, please, sir, the poor girl's so frightened! Won't you come to-morrow?"

Dr. Zacharie advanced, full of importance and authority.

"I'll get her," he said grimly. "That is, of course, unless I have completely lost my influence over her. In these cases one can never be sure what form the delusion will take."

"Do as you think best, doctor," assented Mr. Cooley.

Dr. Zacharie opened the door and went in. There was a short delay during which the others waited expectantly. In a few moments the door again opened and Paula entered docily, the physician at her side.