Mysterious Mr. Sabin Part 9

The Countess shook her head.

"I am afraid that would not do at all," she said. "Besides, out of pure good nature, of course, Denvers has already encouraged him. Only last week he wrote him a friendly letter hoping that he was getting on, and telling him how interested every one in the War Office was to hear about his work. He has known about it all the time, you see. Then, too, if the occupation were taken from your father, I am afraid he would break down altogether."

"Of course there is that to be feared," Wolfenden admitted. "I wonder what put this new delusion into his head? Does he suspect any one in particular?"

The Countess shook her head.

"I do not think so; of course it was Miss Merton who started it. He quite believes that she took copies of all the work she did here, but he was so pleased with himself at the idea of having found her out, that he has troubled very little about it. He seems to think that she had not reached the most important part of his work, and he is copying that himself now by hand."

"But outside the house has he no suspicions at all?"

"Not that I know of; not any definite suspicion. He was talking last night of d.u.c.h.esne, the great spy and adventurer, in a rambling sort of way. 'd.u.c.h.esne would be the man to get hold of my work if he knew of it,' he kept on saying. 'But none must know of it! The newspapers must be quiet! It is a terrible danger!' He talked like that for some time. No, I do not think that he suspects anybody. It is more a general uneasiness."

"Poor old chap!" Wolfenden said softly. "What does Dr. Whitlett think of him? Has he seen him lately? I wonder if there is any chance of his getting over it?"

"None at all," she answered. "Dr. Whitlett is quite frank; he will never recover what he has lost--he will probably lose more. But come, there is the dressing bell. You will see him for yourself at dinner. Whatever you do don't be late--he hates any one to be a minute behind time."

CHAPTER XIV.

THE TEMPTING OF MR. BLATHERWICK.

Wolfenden was careful to reach the hall before the dinner gong had sounded. His father greeted him warmly, and Wolfenden was surprised to see so little outward change in him. He was carefully dressed, well groomed in every respect, and he wore a delicate orchid in his b.u.t.ton-hole.

During dinner he discussed the little round of London life and its various social events with perfect sanity, and permitted himself his usual good-natured grumble at Wolfenden for his dilatoriness in the choice of a profession.

He did not once refer to the subject of his own weakness until dessert had been served, when he pa.s.sed the claret to Wolfenden without filling his own gla.s.s.

"You will excuse my not joining you," he said to his son, "but I have still three or four hours' writing to do, and such work as mine requires a very clear head--you can understand that, I daresay."

Wolfenden a.s.sented in silence. For the first time, perhaps, he fully realised the ethical pity of seeing a man so distinguished the victim of a hopeless and incurable mania. He watched him sitting at the head of his table, courteous, gentle, dignified; noted too the air of intellectual abstraction which followed upon his last speech, and in which he seemed to dwell for the rest of the time during which they sat together. Instinctively he knew what disillusionment must mean for him. Sooner anything than that. It must never be. Never! he repeated firmly to himself as he smoked a solitary cigar later on in the empty smoking-room. Whatever happens he must be saved from that. There was a knock at the door, and in response to his invitation to enter, Mr. Blatherwick came in. Wolfenden, who was in the humour to prefer any one's society to his own, greeted him pleasantly, and wheeled up an easy chair opposite to his own.

"Come to have a smoke, Blatherwick?" he said. "That's right. Try one of these cigars; the governor's are all right, but they are in such shocking condition."

Mr. Blatherwick accepted one with some hesitation, and puffed slowly at it with an air of great deliberation. He was a young man of mild demeanour and deportment, and clerical aspirations. He wore thick spectacles, and suffered from chronic biliousness.

"I am much obliged to you, Lord Wolfenden," he said. "I seldom smoke cigars--it is not good for my sight. An occasional cigarette is all I permit myself."

Wolfenden groaned inwardly, for his regalias were priceless and not to be replaced; but he said nothing.

"I have taken the liberty, Lord Wolfenden," Mr. Blatherwick continued, "of bringing for your inspection a letter I received this morning. It is, I presume, intended for a practical joke, and I need not say that I intend to treat it as such. At the same time as you were in the house, I imagined that no--er--harm would ensue if I ventured to ask for your opinion."

He handed an open letter to Wolfenden, who took it and read it through. It was dated "---- London," and bore the postmark of the previous day.

"MR. ARNOLD BLATHERWICK.

"DEAR SIR,--The writer of this letter is prepared to offer you one thousand pounds in return for a certain service which you are in a position to perform. The details of that service can only be explained to you in a personal interview, but broadly speaking it is as follows:-- "You are engaged as private secretary to the Earl of Deringham, lately an admiral in the British Navy. Your duties, it is presumed, are to copy and revise papers and calculations having reference to the coast defences and navy of Great Britain. The writer is himself engaged upon a somewhat similar task, but not having had the facilities accorded to Lord Deringham, is without one or two important particulars. The service required of you is the supplying of these, and for this you are offered one thousand pounds.

"As a man of honour you may possibly hesitate to at once embrace this offer. You need not! Lord Deringham's work is practically useless, for it is the work of a lunatic. You yourself, from your intimate a.s.sociation with him, must know that this statement is true. He will never be able to give coherent form to the ma.s.s of statistics and information which he has collected. Therefore you do him no harm in supplying these few particulars to one who will be able to make use of them. The sum you are offered is out of all proportion to their value--a few months' delay and they could easily be acquired by the writer without the expenditure of a single halfpenny. That, however, is not the point.

"I am rich and I have no time to spare. Hence this offer. I take it that you are a man of common sense, and I take it for granted, therefore, that you will not hesitate to accept this offer. Your acquiescence will be a.s.sumed if you lunch at the Grand Hotel, Cromer, between one and two, on Thursday following the receipt of this letter. You will then be put in full possession of all the information necessary to the carrying out of the proposals made to you. You are well known to the writer, who will take the liberty of joining you at your table."

The letter ended thus somewhat abruptly. Wolfenden, who had only glanced it through at first, now re-read it carefully. Then he handed it back to Blatherwick.

"It is a very curious communication," he said thoughtfully, "a very curious communication indeed. I do not know what to think of it."

Mr. Blatherwick laid down his cigar with an air of great relief. He would have liked to have thrown it away, but dared not.

"It must surely be intended for a practical joke, Lord Wolfenden," he said. "Either that, or my correspondent has been ludicrously misinformed."

"You do not consider, then, that my father's work is of any value at all?" Wolfenden asked.

Mr. Blatherwick coughed apologetically, and watched the extinction of the cigar by his side with obvious satisfaction.

"You would, I am sure, prefer," he said, "that I gave you a perfectly straightforward answer to that question. I--er--cannot conceive that the work upon which his lords.h.i.+p and I are engaged can be of the slightest interest or use to anybody. I can a.s.sure you, Lord Wolfenden, that my brain at times reels--positively reels--from the extraordinary nature of the ma.n.u.scripts which your father has pa.s.sed on to me to copy. It is not that they are merely technical, they are absolutely and entirely meaningless. You ask me for my opinion, Lord Wolfenden, and I conceive it to be my duty to answer you honestly. I am quite sure that his lords.h.i.+p is not in a fit state of mind to undertake any serious work."

"The person who wrote that letter," Wolfenden remarked, "thought otherwise."

"The person who wrote that letter," Mr. Blatherwick retorted quickly, "if indeed it was written in good faith, is scarcely likely to know so much about his lords.h.i.+p's condition of mind as I, who have spent the greater portion of every day for three months with him."

"Do you consider that my father is getting worse, Mr. Blatherwick?" Wolfenden asked.

"A week ago," Mr. Blatherwick said, "I should have replied that his lords.h.i.+p's state of mind was exactly the same as when I first came here. But there has been a change for the worse during the last week. It commenced with his sudden, and I am bound to say, unfounded suspicions of Miss Merton, whom I believe to be a most estimable and worthy young lady."

Mr. Blatherwick paused, and appeared to be troubled with a slight cough. The smile, which Wolfenden was not altogether able to conceal, seemed somewhat to increase his embarra.s.sment.

"The extraordinary occurrence of last night, which her ladys.h.i.+p has probably detailed to you," Mr. Blatherwick continued, "was the next development of what, I fear, we can only regard as downright insanity. I regret having to speak so plainly, but I am afraid that any milder phrase would be inapplicable."

"I am very sorry to hear this," Wolfenden remarked gravely.

"Under the circ.u.mstances," Mr. Blatherwick said, picking up his cigar which was now extinct, and immediately laying it down again, "I trust that you and Lady Deringham will excuse my not giving the customary notice of my desire to leave. It is of course impossible for me to continue to draw a--er--a stipend such as I am in receipt of for services so ludicrously inadequate."

"Lady Deringham will be sorry to have you go," Wolfenden said. "Couldn't you put up with it a little longer?"

"I would much prefer to leave," Mr. Blatherwick said decidedly. "I am not physically strong, and I must confess that his lords.h.i.+p's att.i.tude at times positively alarms me. I fear that there is no doubt that he committed an unprovoked a.s.sault last night upon that unfortunate keeper. There is--er--no telling whom he might select for his next victim. If quite convenient, Lord Wolfenden, I should like to leave to-morrow by an early train."

"Oh! you can't go so soon as that," Wolfenden said. "How about this letter?"

"You can take any steps you think proper with regard to it," Mr. Blatherwick answered nervously. "Personally, I have nothing to do with it. I thought of going to spend a week with an aunt of mine in Cornwall, and I should like to leave by the early train to-morrow."

Wolfenden could scarcely keep from laughing, although he was a little annoyed.

"Look here, Blatherwick," he said, "you must help me a little before you go, there's a good fellow. I don't doubt for a moment what you say about the poor old governor's condition of mind; but at the same time it's rather an odd thing, isn't it, that his own sudden fear of having his work stolen is followed up by the receipt of this letter to you? There is some one, at any rate, who places a very high value upon his ma.n.u.scripts. I must say that I should like to know whom that letter came from."

"I can a.s.sure you," Mr. Blatherwick said, "that I have not the faintest idea."

"Of course you haven't," Wolfenden a.s.sented, a little impatiently. "But don't you see how easy it will be for us to find out? You must go to the Grand Hotel on Thursday for lunch, and meet this mysterious person."

"I would very much rather not," Mr. Blatherwick declared promptly. "I should feel exceedingly uncomfortable; I should not like it at all!"

"Look here," Wolfenden said persuasively "I must find out who wrote that letter, and can only do so with your help. You need only be there, I will come up directly I have marked the man who comes to your table. Your presence is all that is required; and I shall take it as a favour if you will allow me to make you a present of a fifty-pound note."

Mr. Blatherwick flushed a little and hesitated. He had brothers and sisters, whose bringing up was a terrible strain upon the slim purse of his father, a country clergyman, and a great deal could be done with fifty pounds. It was against his conscience as well as his inclinations to remain in a post where his duties were a farce, but this was different.

He sighed.

"You are very generous, Lord Wolfenden," he said. "I will stay until after Thursday."

"There's a good fellow," Wolfenden said, much relieved. "Have another cigar?"

Mr. Blatherwick rose hastily, and shook his head. "You must excuse me, if you please," he said. "I will not smoke any more. I think if you will not mind----"

Wolfenden turned to the window and held up his hand.

"Listen!" he said. "Is that a carriage at this time of night?"

A carriage it certainly was, pa.s.sing by the window. In a moment they heard it draw up at the front door, and some one alighted.

"Odd time for callers," Wolfenden remarked.

Mr. Blatherwick did not reply. He, too, was listening. In a moment they heard the rustling of a woman's skirts outside, and the smoking-room door opened.

CHAPTER XV.

THE COMING AND GOING OF MR. FRANKLIN WILMOT.

Both men looked up as Lady Deringham entered the room, carefully closing the door behind her. She had a card in her hand, and an open letter.

"Wolfenden," she said. "I am so glad that you are here. It is most fortunate! Something very singular has happened. You will be able to tell me what to do."

Mr. Blatherwick rose quietly and left the room.

Wolfenden was all attention.

"Some one has just arrived," he remarked.

"A gentleman, a complete stranger," she a.s.sented. "This is his card. He seemed surprised that his name was not familiar to me. He was quite sure that you would know it."

Wolfenden took the card between his fingers and read it out.

"Mr. Franklin Wilmot."

He was thoughtful for a moment. The name was familiar enough, but he could not immediately remember in what connection. Suddenly it flashed into his mind.

"Of course!" he exclaimed. "He is a famous physician--a very great swell, goes to Court and all that!"

Lady Deringham nodded.

"He has introduced himself as a physician. He has brought this letter from Dr. Whitlett."

Wolfenden took the note from her hand. It was written on half a sheet of paper, and apparently in great haste:-- "DEAR LADY DERINGHAM,--My old friend, Franklin Wilmot, who has been staying at Cromer, has just called upon me. We have been having a chat, and he is extremely interested in Lord Deringham's case, so much so that I had arranged to come over with him this evening to see if you would care to have his opinion. Unfortunately, however, I have been summoned to attend a patient nearly ten miles away--a bad accident, I fear--and Wilmot is leaving for town to-morrow morning. I suggested, however, that he might call on his way back to Cromer, and if you would kindly let him see Lord Deringham, I should be glad, as his opinion would be of material a.s.sistance to me. Wilmot's reputation as the greatest living authority on cases of partial mania is doubtless known to you, and as he never, under any circ.u.mstances, visits patients outside London, it would be a great pity to lose this opportunity.

"In great haste and begging you to excuse this scrawl, "I am, dear Lady Deringham, "Yours sincerely, "JOHN WHITLETT.

"P.S.--You will please not offer him any fee."

Wolfenden folded up the letter and returned it.

"Well, I suppose it's all right," he said. "It's an odd time, though, to call on an errand of this sort."

"So I thought," Lady Deringham agreed; "but Dr. Whitlett's explanation seems perfectly feasible, does it not? I said that I would consult you. You will come in and see him?"

Wolfenden followed his mother into the drawing-room. A tall, dark man was sitting in a corner, under a palm tree. In one hand he held a magazine, the pictures of which he seemed to be studying with the aid of an eyegla.s.s, the other was raised to his mouth. He was in the act of indulging in a yawn when Wolfenden and his mother entered the room.

"This is my son, Lord Wolfenden," she said. "Dr. Franklin Wilmot."

The two men bowed.

"Lady Deringham has explained to you the reason of my untimely visit, I presume?" the latter remarked at once.

Wolfenden a.s.sented.

"Yes! I am afraid that it will be a little difficult to get my father to see you on such short notice."

"I was about to explain to Lady Deringham, before I understood that you were in the house," Dr. Wilmot said, "that although that would be an advantage, it is not absolutely necessary at present. I should of course have to examine your father before giving a definite opinion as to his case, but I can give you a very fair idea as to his condition without seeing him at all."

Wolfenden and his mother exchanged glances.

"You must forgive us," Wolfenden commenced hesitatingly, "but really I can scarcely understand."

"Of course not," their visitor interrupted brusquely. "My method is one which is doubtless altogether strange to you, but if you read the Lancet or the Medical Journal, you would have heard a good deal about it lately. I form my conclusions as to the mental condition of a patient almost altogether from a close inspection of their letters, or any work upon which they are, or have been, recently engaged. I do not say that it is possible to do this from a single letter, but when a man has a hobby, such as I understand Lord Deringham indulges in, and has devoted a great deal of time to real or imaginary work in connection with it, I am generally able, from a study of that work, to tell how far the brain is weakened, if at all, and in what manner it can be strengthened. This is only the crudest outline of my theory, but to be brief, I can give you my opinion as to Lord Deringham's mental condition, and my advice as to its maintenance, if you will place before me the latest work upon which he has been engaged. I hope I have made myself clear."

"Perfectly," Wolfenden answered. "It sounds very reasonable and very interesting, but I am afraid that there are a few practical difficulties in the way. In the first place, my father does not show his work or any portion of it to any one. On the other hand he takes the most extraordinary precautions to maintain absolute secrecy with regard to it."