“I am sure you are right, there,” said Aubrey.  “He suddenly became violent to-night, while we were talking about his ’cello; got up, staggered across, and struck me on the mouth.”

Dr. Dick’s keen eyes were instantly bent upon Aubrey Treherne in perplexed scrutiny.

Aubrey shifted uncomfortably in his seat; then rose and put fuel into the stove.

Still Dick sat silent.

When Aubrey resumed his seat, Dick spoke—­slowly, as if carefully weighing every word.

“Now that is peculiar,” he said.  “Ronnie’s mental condition is a perfectly amiable one, unless anything was said or done to cause him extreme provocation.  In fact, he would not be easily provoked.  He is inclined rather to take a maudlinly affectionate and friendly view of things and people; to be very simply, almost childishly, pleased with the last new idea.  That wretched Infant of his is a case in point.  I should be glad if you would tell me, sir, what happened in this room just before Ronnie hit out.”

“Merely a conversation about the ’cello,” replied Aubrey, hurriedly.  “A perfectly simple remark of mine apparently annoyed him.  But I soon pacified him.  He was obviously not responsible for his actions.”

“He was obviously in a frenzy of rage,” remarked Dr. Dick, drily; “and he caught you a good one on the mouth.  Did he apologise afterwards?”

“He fell asleep,” said Aubrey, “and appeared on awaking to have absolutely forgotten the occurrence.”

Dick got up, put his hands in his pockets, walked over to the organ, and, bending down, examined the stops.  He whistled softly to himself as he did so.

Aubrey, meanwhile, had the uncomfortable sensation that the whole scene with Ronnie was being re-acted, with Dick Cameron as an interested spectator.

It tried Aubrey’s nerves.

“I do not wish to hurry you,” he suggested presently.  “But if I am to post my letter to my cousin before midnight, the sooner I am able to write it, the better.”

Dick turned at once and took up his ulster.

Aubrey, relieved, came forward cordially to lend him a hand.

“No, thank you,” said Dr. Dick.  “A man should always get into his coat unaided.  In so doing, he uses certain muscles which are exercised in no other way.”

He swung himself into the heavy coat, and stood before Aubrey Treherne—­very tall, very grave, very determined.

“You quite understand, sir, that if you were not yourself taking Ronnie home, I should do so?  And if, by any chance, you are prevented from going, just let me know, and I can be packed and ready to start home with him in a quarter of an hour.”

“Very good of you,” said Aubrey, “but all our plans are made.  We reach the Hague to-morrow night.  He requires a day there for making his translation and publishing arrangements.  So we sleep at the Hague to-morrow, crossing by the Hook of Holland on the following evening.  I have wired to the Hotel des Indes for a suite.  I feel sure my cousin would wish him to have the best of everything, and to be absolutely comfortable and quiet.  At the Hotel des Indes they have an excellent orchestra, and a particularly fine ’cellist.  West will enjoy showing him the Infant.  They can compare babies!  It will keep him amused and interested all the evening.”