They paused beside a gate and faced each other.
"I gather that it is rather an unusual case?" the doctor remarked.
"A very unusual one," Jim replied. "The matter stands in this way. I am engaged to a young lady who is the adopted granddaughter of the gentleman in question."
The doctor nodded, but said nothing. He listened attentively, while Jim told his tale, explained his fears for Helen's safety, and described the threats the old gentleman had made use of concerning himself.
When he had finished Dr. Weston drew some lines on the ground with the point of his umbrella, as if he were working out a difficult calculation.
"This is certainly a singular case, Mr. Standerton," he said at last.
"You are no connected with this gentleman in any way, and he, not approving of your marriage with his granddaughter, has forbidden you his house. The young lady's only reason for believing him to be a little weak in his intellect is his treatment of you. I really do not know whether, under the circumstances, I should be justified in seeing him."
Jim's heart sank. He had not looked at the matter from this point of view. Observing his disappointment, the doctor smiled.
"Nevertheless," he continued, "I will see him, provided you will give me your promise that my report shall be considered a purely confidential one."
"Am I to understand that I am not to acquaint Miss Decie or my sister with your decision?"
"Of course, I will allow you to tell them, and equally, of course, provided it goes no further."
"In that case I will give you my promise most willingly," said Jim.
"And now the question comes as to how I can obtain my interview with him."
"I have thought out a plan that should enable you to do that," Jim replied. "I happen to know that for a long time past he has been engaged in writing a history of the neighbourhood, and my house in particular which at one time was the property of his family."
"Quite so; and the ruins a mile or two back, what are they called?"
"Clevedon Castle," Jim answered. "I believe it was destroyed by Cromwell."
"That should answer my purpose. And now with your permission I will drive to his house--not in your carriage, but in a cab. I shall see you afterwards, I presume?"
"I will wait for you here, or at my own house, whichever you please,"
said Jim.
"Your house, I think, would be better," the doctor answered. "I will drive there directly I leave Mr.----. By-the-way, you have not told me his name or given me his address."
Jim furnished him with both, and then the doctor hailed a fly and drove away.
It was nearly half-past five before Jim was informed by Wilkins that Dr.
Weston had called, and that he had been shown to the study.
He immediately proceeded thither, to find the doctor sitting before the fire.
"Well, Mr. Standerton," he began, "I have seen Mr. Bursfield, and have had rather a curious interview with him."
"And what decision have you come to?"
"Well, I think your supposition is correct. Not to be technical, I might say that he is not really responsible for his actions. While we discussed archaeology, and the history of the neighbourhood, he was rational enough, but when I chanced to touch upon this house, and your connection with it, his whole demeanour changed. If I were in your place I should avoid him as much as possible, for there can be no doubt that he would do you a mischief if he could. As for Miss Decie, I would not advise you to persuade her to leave him, at least not at present. It would in all probability immediately produce unfavourable results, and in so doing might snap the frail link that still connects him with Sanity. The influence she exerts over him, where you are not concerned, is undoubtedly a beneficial one."
"Am I to consider that she is safe with him?"
"I should say so," the doctor replied. "Of course, if he has many more of these paroxysms of rage it might be necessary for her to leave him.
But she must be the best judge of that. Doubtless you can arrange that with her. And now I must be getting back to the railway station; if I wish to catch my train I have not much time to lose."
"I am exceedingly obliged to you, Doctor Weston," said Jim gratefully.
"I cannot say that you have made my mind easier, but you have at least let me know exactly how matters stand with Mr. Bursfield."
"I am glad to have been of service," said the doctor.
James handed him an envelope containing his fee, and escorted him to the door. When he had seen him depart he returned to the drawing-room and communicated his intelligence to his sister.
"Poor Helen," said Alice, "it is no wonder that she looks anxious. What will you do now, Jim?"
"I must take the night to think the matter over," he answered. "Since the old man is undoubtedly mad, and not only mad, but dangerously so, I cannot bear to contemplate her remaining with him, and yet I have no desire to hasten the crisis."
All the evening Jim brooded over the matter, imagining all sorts of dangers for the woman he loved. At last the time came for them to retire to rest. He was in the act of lighting Alice's candle in the hall, when the sound of steps on the gravel path outside attracted his attention.
"Good gracious!" cried Jim, "who on earth can it be at this time of the night?"
So saying, he hastened to the door. The lights from the hall shone on the steps, and showed him Helen Decie, standing, bareheaded, before him.
For a moment the shock at seeing her there at such an hour, and in such a plight, deprived him of speech. Alice was the first to break the silence.
"Helen, my dear girl," she cried, "what does this mean?"
Then Helen stepped into the hall, and James closed the door behind her.
He had scarcely done so, before she gave a little cry and fell to the floor in a dead faint. Picking her up, Jim carried her to the big settee in the centre.
"My poor girl," he cried, "what has he done to you?" Then, turning to Alice, he added, "What can have happened?"
She did not answer him, but sped upstairs to her bedroom, to presently return with a bottle of smelling salts. Under their restorative influence, consciousness very soon returned, and Helen looked about her in a dazed fashion, as if she could not realise where she was.
"Do you feel well enough to tell what has taken place, dear?" Jim asked, when she had so far recovered as to be able to sit up. "What has brought you here bareheaded at this time of night?"
"My grandfather has turned me out of his house," she answered falteringly.
"Turned you out of the house?" repeated both Jim and Alice together.
Then Alice added: "Surely not? He ought to be turned out himself."
"You must not be angry with him," said Helen. "I really don't think he knows what he is doing."
"But this is an unheard-of thing," Jim said angrily. "He must have taken leave of his senses."
"He accused me of being in league with you to poison him, and bade me come to an instant decision as to whether I would give you up or leave the house."
"And my noble girl refused to give me up?" said James, kissing her hand.
"Helen acted nobly," said Alice. "Never mind, dear, you know where your real friends are, don't you?"