The paroxysm was over.  Ten seconds later this cataclysmal lunatic had reverted to sanity—­a rather sheepish sanity.

He thrust his hands into his trouser pockets and turned his back on the car.  He remarked in a voice of melancholy detachment:  “It was a mistake to bring that coupe.”

Dr. Martineau had assumed an attitude of trained observation on the side path.  His hands rested on his hips and his hat was a little on one side.  He was inclined to agree with Sir Richmond.  “I don’t know,” he considered.  “You wanted some such blow-off as this.”

“Did I?”

“The energy you have!  That car must be somebody’s whipping boy.”

“The devil it is!” said Sir Richmond, turning round sharply and staring at it as if he expected it to display some surprising and yet familiar features.  Then he looked questioningly and suspiciously at his companion.

“These outbreaks do nothing to amend the originating grievance,” said the doctor.  “No.  And at times they are even costly.  But they certainly lift a burthen from the nervous system....  And now I suppose we have to get that little ruin to Maidenhead.”

“Little ruin!” repeated Sir Richmond.  “No.  There’s lots of life in the little beast yet.”

He reflected.  “She’ll have to be towed.”  He felt in his breast pocket.  “Somewhere I have the R.A.C. order paper, the Badge that will Get You Home.  We shall have to hail some passing car to take it into Maidenhead.”

Dr. Martineau offered and Sir Richmond took and lit a cigarette.

For a little while conversation hung fire.  Then for the first time Dr. Martineau heard his patient laugh.

“Amazing savage,” said Sir Richmond.  “Amazing savage!”

He pointed to his handiwork.  “The little car looks ruffled.  Well it may.”

He became grave again.  “I suppose I ought to apologize.”

Dr. Martineau weighed the situation.  “As between doctor and patient,” he said.  “No.”

“Oh!” said Sir Richmond, turned to a new point of view.  “But where the patient ends and the host begins....  I’m really very sorry.”  He reverted to his original train of thought which had not concerned Dr. Martineau at all.  “After all, the little car was only doing what she was made to do.”

Section 2

The affair of the car effectively unsealed Sir Richmond’s mind.  Hitherto Dr. Martineau had perceived the possibility and danger of a defensive silence or of a still more defensive irony; but now that Sir Richmond had once given himself away, he seemed prepared to give himself away to an unlimited extent.  He embarked upon an apologetic discussion of the choleric temperament.

He began as they stood waiting for the relief car from the Maidenhead garage.  “You were talking of the ghosts of apes and monkeys that suddenly come out from the darkness of the subconscious....”

“You mean—­when we first met at Harley Street?”