“I arrest you—­” he began; but Doctor Brown plucked himself free with startling promptitude, took a flying leap at the other, tore off his sham beard, tossing it into the air like one of the wild wisps of the cloud; then, with one wild kick, sent the easel flying topsy-turvy, and fled like a hare for the shore.  Even at that dazzling instant Paynter felt that this wild reception was a novelty and almost an anticlimax; but he had no time for analysis when he and the whole pack had to follow in the hunt; even Treherne bringing up the rear with a renewed curiosity and energy.

The fugitive collided with one of the policemen who ran to head him off, sending him sprawling down the slope; indeed, the fugitive seemed inspired with the strength of a wild ape.  He cleared at a bound the rampart of flowers, over which Barbara had once leaned to look at her future lover, and tumbled with blinding speed down the steep path up which that troubadour had climbed.  Racing with the rushing wind they all streamed across the garden after him, down the path, and finally on to the seashore by the fisher’s cot, and the pierced crags and caverns the American had admired when he first landed.  The runaway did not, however, make for the house he had long inhabited, but rather for the pier, as if with a mind to seize the boat or to swim.  Only when he reached the other end of the small stone jetty did he turn, and show them the pale face with the spectacles; and they saw that it was still smiling.

“I’m rather glad of this,” said Treherne, with a great sigh.  “The man is mad.”

Nevertheless, the naturalness of the doctor’s voice, when he spoke, startled them as much as a shriek.

“Gentleman,” he said, “I won’t protract your painful duties by asking you what you want; but I will ask at once for a small favor, which will not prejudice those duties in any way.  I came down here rather in a hurry perhaps; but the truth is I thought I was late for an appointment.”  He looked dispassionately at his watch.  “I find there is still some fifteen minutes.  Will you wait with me here for that short time; after which I am quite at your service.”

There was a bewildered silence, and then Paynter said:  “For my part, I feel as if it would really be better to humor him.”

“Ashe,” said the doctor, with a new note of seriousness, “for old friendship, grant me this last little indulgence.  It will make no difference; I have no arms or means of escape; you can search me if you like.  I know you think you are doing right, and I also know you will do it as fairly as you can.  Well, after all, you get friends to help you; look at our friend with the beard, or the remains of the beard.  Why shouldn’t I have a friend to help me?  A man will be here in a few minutes in whom I put some confidence; a great authority on these things.  Why not, if only out of curiosity, wait and hear his view of the case?”

“This seems all moonshine,” said Ashe, “but on the chance of any light on things—­well, from the moon—­I don’t mind waiting a quarter of an hour.  Who is this friend, I wonder; some amateur detective, I suppose.”