"he wasn't exactly a maniac, but I think I can safely say he was a
lunatic."

"Then here's to insanity!" said the irrepressible, his glass swung in
mid-air, when a thought struck him, and he put it down again and looked
hard at the doctor.

"Will you swear to it?" he demanded.

"I would swear to it before Saint Peter," said the doctor, fervently.

He swore to it before a jury, which was more to the point, and we won our
case. It did not even go to the court of appeals; I suppose the railroad
thought it cheaper to drop it, since no right of way was involved. And
the decision was scarcely announced before Mr. Farquhar Fenelon Cooke had
begun work on his new country place, Mohair.

I have oftentimes been led to consider the relevancy of this chapter, and
have finally decided to insert it. I concluded that the actual narrative
of how Mr. Cooke came to establish his country-place near Asquith would
be interesting, and likewise throw some light on that gentleman's
character. And I ask the reader's forbearance for the necessary personal
history involved. Had it not been for Mr. Cooke's friendship for me I
should not have written these pages.




CHAPTER III