Part 8 (1/2)
”I am entirely in the right when I request you to explain these mysteries to me. My father's position will enable me to obtain a search-warrant without much difficulty, and----”
”Very well, very well, I will tell you all,” cried the Major, flinging his cigar stump into the empty fireplace, ”though I must ask you to consider all I tell you as strictly private and confidential. Is that not so?”
”It depends entirely upon the nature of your confession,” responded Laurence drily.
”Confession! You use hard-sounding words, Mr. Carrington. But here goes!
First, my name is not Jones-Farnell. And, need I say, I am not an invalid.”
”I knew that,” Laurence interjected.
”In reality, I am one Orlando Meadows. Second, I am not of a military calling, my profession being that of medicine. Third, I am an authority on diseases of the brain, and particularly lunacy and its treatment; and, finally, I have in my charge downstairs a very savage lunatic.”
Laurence gasped with amazement. If this were the case--that is, if a maniac were really imprisoned in the house--was it not more than possible that he it was who had made the savage attack on the Squire, and who had been hiding since the night of the attack in the Manse barn?
”Tell me, what is he like?” he asked eagerly.
The ”Major,” or rather, Doctor Meadows, as he really was, looked at him with a puzzled expression on his well-formed features.
”He is gigantic,” was his answer, after a moment's pause; ”terribly powerful and repulsively ugly, but pray have no fear on that account. I have him under the strongest lock and key that London can supply.”
But Laurence's hopes had been dashed to the ground. The description of Meadows' patient was as dissimilar to that of the person in the barn as it was possible for it to be, and the lunatic was safely locked up downstairs!
The confidence with which the visitor had accepted the doctor's confession was destroyed. Meadows was lying to him, that was quite certain, and yet his story had a complexion of probability about it that deserved attention.
”Doctor!” cried Laurence sternly, ”will you take your oath that you are telling me the truth?”
”This is an unpardonable insult,” exclaimed Meadows in reply, rising to his feet and clenching his fists in the air. ”How dare you insinuate that I am telling lies?”
”Keep calm, if you please, Doctor Meadows,” said Carrington. ”Prove your a.s.sertion by showing me this gigantic patient of yours.”
Instantly there was a change in the doctor's behaviour. He collapsed into his seat with a groan of despair.
”That is impossible,” he muttered.
”Why so?”
”It would be unsafe; in fact, positively dangerous to both you and myself,” he stammered.
”As a doctor you should be able to tackle your patient,” said Laurence.
”As a fairly strong and athletic man I can a.s.sist you. If necessary, there is also your servant. That is, we are three to one. No, Doctor, I can't take such excuses. You must prove your words by at least giving me certain evidence that you have a maniac in your charge downstairs.”
”I cannot and I will not,” replied the other.
”Then I shall go down and explore the place myself.”
”For Heaven's sake, don't,” shrieked Meadows, starting up again; ”it will be all the worse for you if you do. I forbid you to leave the room until I give you permission, and then my servant will accompany you to the door.”
Laurence was puzzled beyond description by the doctor's behaviour. Why was he so anxious that his guest should not explore the house? Was it that he really feared his patient might break loose and attack him? For the matter of that, had he a maniac patient at all? Might not the story be entirely fict.i.tious? Could it be that the black creature (if he or she were really black) who was waging such active warfare against the Squire was in lurking in Durley Dene?