“What in the world are you talking about?” he asked slowly.  “Are you a raving lunatic—­or what are you?”

“Come, come, doctor,” said Mr. Booley in persuasive accents, “none of that with me, you know.  If the man must be moved—­why he must, that is all, and you must make it possible, somehow.”

“You are crazy!” exclaimed John.  “I am not the doctor, to begin with—­”

“Not the doctor!” cried Mr. Booley.  “Then who are you?  I beg your pardon, I am sure—­”

“I am John Short,” said John, quickly, heedless of the fact that his name conveyed no idea whatever to the mind of the detective.  He cared little, for he began to comprehend the situation, and he fled precipitately into the library, leaving Mr. Booley alone to wait for the coming of the real physician.  But in the library a fresh surprise awaited him; there he found Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose seated in solemn silence opposite to each other.  He had not suspected their presence in the house, but he was relieved to see them—­anything was a relief at that moment.

“Mr. Ambrose,” he said hurriedly, “there is a detective in the next room who means to carry off that poor man at once—­as he is—­sick—­dying perhaps—­it must be prevented!”

“A detective!” cried the vicar and his wife in the same breath.

“My dear John,” said the vicar immediately afterwards, “where is he?  I will reason with him.”

“Augustin,” said Mrs. Ambrose with extreme severity, “it is barbarous.  I will go upstairs.  If he enters the room it shall be across my body.”

“Do, my dear,” replied the vicar in great excitement, and not precisely appreciating the proposition to which he gave so willing an assent.

“Of course I will,” said his wife, who had already reached the door.  From which it appears that Mrs. Ambrose was a brave woman.  She passed rapidly up the staircase to Goddard’s room, but she paused as she laid her hand upon the latch.  From within she could hear Mary Goddard’s voice, praying aloud, as she had never heard any one pray before.  She paused and listened, hesitating to interrupt the unhappy lady in such a moment.  Moreover, though her goodwill was boundless, she had not any precise idea how to manage the defence.  But as she stood there, the thought that the detective might at any moment follow her was predominant.  The voice within the room paused for an instant and Mrs. Ambrose entered, raising one finger to her lips as though expecting that Mary Goddard would speak to her.  But Mary was not looking, and at first did not notice the intrusion.  She knelt by the bedside, her face buried in the coverlet, her hands clasped and clasping the sick man’s wounded hand.