Merton determined to call at Dr. Fogarty’s asylum at four in the afternoon.  The gang, under Trevor, was to arrive half an hour later, and to surround and enter the premises if Merton did not emerge within half an hour.

At four o’clock exactly Trevor’s brougham was at the gates of the asylum.  The footman rang the bell, a porter opened a wicket, and admitted a lady of fashionable aspect, who asked for Dr. Fogarty.  She was ushered into his study, her card (’Louise, 13 —–­ Street’) was taken by the servant, and Dr. Fogarty appeared.  He was a fair, undecided looking man, with blue wandering eyes, and long untidy, reddish whiskers.  He bowed and looked uncomfortable, as well he might.

‘I have called to see the Ertwa Oknurcha, Dr. Fogarty,’ said Merton.

‘Oh Lord,’ said Dr. Fogarty, and murmured, ‘Another of his lady friends!’ adding, ‘I must ask, Miss, have you the churinga?’

Merton produced, out of his muff, the Australian specimen which Trevor had bought.

The doctor inspected it.  ‘I shall take it to the Ertwa Oknurcha,’ he said, and shambled out.  Presently he returned.  ‘He will see you, Miss.’

Merton found the redoubtable Dr. Markham, an elderly man, clean shaven, prompt-looking, with very keen dark eyes, sitting at a writing table, with a few instruments of his profession lying about.  The table stood on an oblong space of uncarpeted and polished flooring of some extent.  Dr. Fogarty withdrew, the other doctor motioned Merton to a chair on the opposite side of the table.  This chair was also on the uncarpeted space, and Merton observed four small brass plates in the parquet.  Arranging his draperies, and laying aside his muff, Merton sat down, slightly shifting the position of the chair.

‘Perhaps, Dr. Melville,’ he said, ’it will be more reassuring to you if I at once hold my hands up,’ and he sat there and smiled, holding up his neatly gloved hands.

The doctor stared, and his hand stole towards an instrument like an unusually long stethoscope, which lay on his table.

Merton sat there ‘hands up,’ still smiling.  ‘Ah, the blow-tube?’ he said.  ’Very good and quiet!  Do you use urali?  Infinitely better, at close quarters, than the noisy old revolver.’

‘I see I have to do with a cool hand, sir,’ said the doctor.

‘Ah,’ said Merton.  ‘Then let us talk as between man and man.’  He tilted his chair backwards, and crossed his legs.  ’By the way, as I have no Aaron and Hur to help me to hold up my hands, may I drop them?  The attitude, though reassuring, is fatiguing.’

‘If you won’t mind first allowing me to remove your muff,’ said the doctor.  It lay on the table in front of Merton.

‘By all means, no gun in my muff,’ said Merton.  ’In fact I think the whole pistol business is overdone, and second rate.’

‘I presume that I have the honour to speak to Mr. Merton?’ asked the doctor.  ‘You slipped through the cordon?’