Part 9 (2/2)
”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.”
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