Let us see."
He took down the statutes of the realm, and showed Alfred the clause
which raises the proprietor of a madhouse above the civic level of Prince
Royal. "Curse the law," said Alfred bitterly.
"No, don't curse the Law. Curse the Act if you like; but we can't get on
without the Law, neither of us. Try again."
"The certifying doctor, sir?"
"Humph!" said Mr. Compton, knitting his brows: "a jury might give you a
verdict. But it would probably be set aside by the full court, or else by
a court of error. For, unless you could prove informality, barefaced
negligence, or _mala fides,_ what does it come to? A professional man,
bound to give medical opinions to all comers, is consulted about you, and
says he thinks you are insane: you turn out sane. Well, then, he was
mistaken: but not more than he is in most of his professional opinions.
We lawyers know what guesswork Medicine is: we see it in the witness-box.
I hate suing opinions: it is like firing bullets at snipes in a wind. Try
again."
Alfred groaned. "Why there is nobody left but the rogue who signed the
order.
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