Part 32 (2/2)
Maloney started and straightened up; there, at least, was a familiar subject. He remembered _that_, even though his mind failed to remember the details of the a.s.sault.
But Maloney knew there was some mistake; it was his weapon, not O'Brien's, that they were talking about. Suddenly, like a flash, came full remembrance--momentarily, only--and he unguardedly blurted out: ”There is only one in the county like it”; then cunningly ceased speaking as though he feared his tongue, but could not exactly reason why.
There was a scarcely audible sigh of anxiety around the room--Oakes had _proved_ Maloney's knowledge of the old revolver. Dr. Moore was gazing intently at the gardener's neck. The carotid arteries were pumping full and strong, down deep beneath the tissues, moving the ridges of his neck in rhythmic but very rapid undulations--the man was showing great excitement.
”Maloney,” said Oakes again, quickly returning to the attack, ”before we were fired upon we fancied we heard a cry over the plain, a curious one like someone yelling an oath or an imperious command. Did you hear it?”
”Yes,” interpolated Moore. ”We thought the words were 'Fire!' or 'Kill!
kill!'”
We all realized what the clever men were doing--telling imaginary things, trying to draw from Maloney an acknowledgment of a delusion.
They were sounding his mind, playing for its weak spot.
The suspect looked surprised, bewildered, then suddenly fell into the trap. His weakened mind had been reached at its point of least resistance.
As in nearly all insane individuals, it took but a proper mention of the predominant delusion to reveal that which might otherwise have gone undetected for a long period.
”Yes,” whispered Maloney. ”I heard the command. It was 'Kill!' 'Murder!'
I have heard it before. I am glad you heard it then--that proves that I am right. I knew I was right. I can prove it. Surely it is not uncommon.
Gentlemen, I have heard it before. I know--I believe--it was meant for--ha! ha!--O'Brien--ha! ha!--no! no!--for _me_!”
Moore stepped toward the man, whose speech now came thick and fast and unintelligible. Hallen closed nearer. Maloney was shaking. His face was turning dark, his jugulars were bulging like whip-cords down his neck, his eyes sparkling with the unmistakable light of insanity. He stooped.
”There it is again! 'Kill! kill!'” he cried in thick, mumbling tones, and bending low. Then he straightened up suddenly and flung himself around, felling Hallen and Martin as though they were wooden men.
He seized a chair and hurled it across the table at Elliott, who dodged successfully, allowing it to crash through the opposite window. Quick to see this means of escape, Maloney followed through the smashed panes--a raving, delirious maniac.
The test, carried out with such consummate skill, had not only proved Maloney's knowledge of the revolver and that he was subject to delusions, but it had also precipitated an unexpected attack of insane excitement--an acute mania.
And now Maloney was gone--escaped.
As Hallen and Martin staggered to their feet, the Chief bellowed forth an order in a voice of deepest chagrin and alarm: ”Catch him!” he cried.
”If he escapes, the people will rise in fury.”
We all heard a sickening, wild yell of defiance from Maloney as he reached the ground--a deep, guttural, maniac cry that struck terror to my weakened nerves and which froze our men for an instant in their tracks, like marble statues.
Someone broke the awful spell--it was Oakes, crying out: ”He is going for the pond and the bridge.” And next instant he and Hallen were out of the front door, the men following in a rus.h.i.+ng, compact body.
_CHAPTER XXIV_
_Across the Bridge_
As I staggered behind the pursuers I saw the tall, erect figure of Quintus glide rapidly across the road and disappear down the decline. In the briefest s.p.a.ce we were at the crest by the road, looking down upon the pond. I saw Moore and O'Brien by my side--the latter swearing like a trooper.
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