The Victorian Villains Megapack (25 page)

“They have never appeared at any other time. As a rule I see them on first retiring. I cannot even have the poor consolation of believing they are merely a nightmare horror.”

“I should very much like to look at the room where all these things take place. Is your bedroom anywhere near?”

“Only through here,” Windrush led the way into an adjoining apartment where a man sat reading. “This is my attendant,” he said, as the man rose on their entry and bowed.

“Would you mind asking him to inquire if Dr. Fernhurst is anywhere about the place? I should like to see him,” said Pringle.

As the man departed on his errand, Pringle continued in a low voice, “I only want to get rid of him.”

Windrush nodded with a look of intelligence, and opened a door on the further side of the room. The bedroom was plainly but substantially furnished, and overlooked the garden at a point where the clipped yews were replaced by a more pleasing vegetation, the mingled scent of jasmine and day-lily floating in through the open window.

“Where does that lead to?” asked Pringle, pointing to a door opposite the one by which they had entered.

“To Dr. Fernhurst’s room. The door is usually locked, but either he or Bonting, the chief attendant, always sleeps there in case I should want their services during the night. Then Jenkinson, my own attendant, always sleeps in the ante-room. I am well looked after you see!” Again the melancholy smile.

Pringle went down on his hands and knees and commenced to make a rigid examination of the floor. The room was carpeted with a chocolate-coloured linoleum scattered over with a rug or two, and apparently presented nothing likely to repay such an elaborate investigation. After a prolonged tour of the room, including a temporary disappearance under the bedstead, Pringle rose to his feet and placed something carefully between the leaves of a book of cigarette-papers, just as the attendant was heard returning from a fruitless search.

“Dr. Fernhurst is nowhere about, sir, and is not expected back till late,” the man announced.

“Never mind,” said Pringle cheerily. “And now, Windrush, I must be going. I’m delighted to find you so comfortably housed and so well looked after. Keep up your spirits, I shall hope to see you again soon.” He grasped Windrush’s hand with an eloquent pressure which was gratefully returned.

Walking slowly back to the station, Pringle took the train to Thorpe Stanlowe, and inquired for Dr. Toddington. He had had to wait some time for the train at Axford, and the evening was drawing in as he approached the house. The doctor was reading, or rather dozing, in his study when the servant announced “Mr. Pringle.” Seizing the conversation-tube which lay beside him, he adjusted it too late to grasp the name of his visitor, but rose to welcome the tall figure of Pringle as he entered, suave and well-groomed as ever.

“Pardon my intrusion at so late an hour,” Pringle apologized in his most insinuating tones; “but will you allow me to consult an Encyclopaedia?”

The doctor courteously referred Pringle to a revolving bookcase and watched him curiously, as with the volume open at a plate of
Lacertilia
, he sat glancing from it every now and again to something in his hand, which he examined through a Coddington magnifier.

“I feel,” said Pringle at length as he returned the volume to its place, “that I owe you an apology for making use of you in this very unceremonious fashion, especially when I tell you that I come here under false pretences.”

“False pretences! I hardly follow you, Mr. Coatbridge,” said the doctor stiffly.

“To make a long story short, I am not Mr. Coatbridge, although I am told I resemble him greatly. My real name is Pringle—here is my card, and I am a literary agent in London.” He did not think it necessary to add the information that his agency was a sinecure!

The doctor rose abruptly, dropping the conversation-tube in his agitation. Pringle sprang forward to recover it, but was majestically motioned away by the old gentleman, and the two stood facing one another.

“I don’t know, sir,” began the doctor very slowly and deliberately, “on what ethical grounds you can justify your extraordinary conduct; under a false name, and assuming a false interest in an unfortunate man, you have succeeded in involving me in a very serious breach of professional etiquette.”

“Excuse me,” said Pringle, seizing the free end of the tube as the doctor paused in his somewhat pompous admonition; “I never assumed any name! I was not responsible for the innkeeper’s mistake. I tried to explain to you this morning that I knew nothing of what you were talking about, but could not make you understand, and I have come now partly to explain matters, and partly to tell you that I have just left Mr. Windrush.”

“Mr. Windrush! What your motives may be, sir, I cannot imagine, but if I may judge them from your mode of procedure they are of a nature that will scarcely bear investigation.”

“I am painfully aware,” said Pringle, “that my conduct must appear liable to misconstruction, but all I ask is that you bear with me for a moment. A mere accident has led me to think that Mr. Windrush has been the victim of a conspiracy to declare him insane, and this appears to me to be the work of the chief person to benefit by its success Percy Windrush!”

“May I ask where you acquired this information, which appears to seriously affect my professional character?”

“After you left this morning, I went for a sail on the Broad. The landlord’s son said he had been in Mr. Windrush’s service, and in the course of conversation he made statements—”

“And do you mean to tell me, sir, that you are relying on the chatter of an ignorant bumpkin like that!”

“He only suggested a line of thought, and the more I speculated upon it, the stronger grew my suspicions.”

“I really am not prepared to go into the matter with you,” returned the doctor icily; “but what I should like to know is how you gained access to Mr. Windrush? I may tell you that as legal difficulties arose in connection with the management of the estate, there was an ‘inquisition’ or inquiry before a Master in Lunacy with a jury, and by them Mr. Windrush was declared insane, and irresponsible. He then became the ward of the Lord Chancellor, and any interference with him is likely to be severely dealt with!”

“To confirm my theory of the case,” said Pringle, “it was absolutely necessary that I should have an interview with him. As I appear to be so like his friend Coatbridge, it occurred to me that I would, just for that single occasion, assume his name. I was thus admitted to see him, and, as a result, I have now no doubt whatever that Percy was in the habit of introducing snakes and other animals which he had coated with luminous paint and so on, into John’s bed-room. That explains his solicitude for his brother, shown by his sleeping in the next room, and the boy said that John only became queer after Percy’s arrival.”

“But how do you account for the visions still appearing?” inquired the doctor cautiously.

“Of course they do!” cried Pringle. “And they’ll continue to appear so long as he remains under Dr. Fernhurst’s care.”

“What! Do you say that Dr. Fernhurst is concerned in the plot as well?”

“I know it! When I got to Axford this morning he was out—very luckily, as it happened! I gained Windrush’s confidence after a little explanation; especially when he saw that I didn’t ridicule his having seen some fiery animal last night, and then I got him to take me to the theatre of the apparitions, I managed to get rid of the attendant, and so had a good look round. As I anticipated, the room communicates with the doctor’s own room, and under the bed I found this trace of the fiery object he saw.” Pringle laid on the table his book of cigarette-papers, and carefully placing in his palm a morsel of what appeared to be one of the leaves, handed Toddington the magnifier, and motioned him to inspect the object through it.

“This,” said Pringle, “appears to be a flake of cuticle such as lizards are periodically casting, and the lines on it correspond to those found on the head of the common green lizard. Now the Encyclopaedia, which I just consulted in case my memory was misleading me, gives this marking as a means of differentiating the species; therefore I know it was a
common green lizard
which Windrush saw in his room last night!”

“But I thought you said he told you it was fiery?”

“Turn down the light, please, while I reverse the scale. Thanks! Now look over here.” Without the lamp the room was quite dark, and, as the doctor looked, a faint shimmering glow from the direction of Pringle’s hand gradually dawned on his gaze.

“Will that satisfy you?” asked Pringle exultingly.

“Wonderful!” exclaimed the other in admiration; “you must really allow me to apologize for anything I may have said to hurt your feelings. But you will understand, if you put yourself in my place, how particularly unpleasant it was to find I had been discussing the private affairs of a patient and a friend with a stranger.”

“I quite understand,” said Pringle cordially. “But the question now is, how we can help Windrush?”

“I am afraid the others are too strong for us. Percy Windrush is his brother’s
committee,
the person appointed to manage his affairs, and the other member of the
committee
with whom the charge of his person rests is Dr. Fernhurst. They have got it all their own way, I fear. As you say, he is never likely to recover as long as he remains in their hands. It would be no use calling the attention of the Lord Chancellor to your discoveries, and to help him to escape would be a criminal offence.”

“That’s no good at all,” decided Pringle. “Percy is playing a very deep game, and this Fernhurst must be as thorough-paced a scoundrel as he, and no doubt gets well paid for his share of the work. No; the only thing to do is to take the bull by the horns, and frighten the pair of them out of the country! Then the ‘hallucinations’ will disappear, and Windrush can be officially declared of sound mind.”

“I don’t much like the idea,” Toddington objected.

“There’s nothing else to be done. Where’s your evidence? Moral proof is not legal proof. Suppose you took proceedings and failed, as you would, for want of evidence, you’d be confronted with any amount of actions for libel and what not. No, no! You let me have all the documents in the case and any letters of Fernhurst’s you have, and I’ll see if I can’t work on their terrors.”

And when Pringle departed, his pockets bulged with a miscellaneous collection of documents.

A day or two after, as Mr. Percy Windrush was sitting in his chambers, he was informed that a messenger from Dr. Fernhurst was waiting to see him.

“What does he want?” he asked.

“He wouldn’t tell me, sir,” replied the servant. “He says his message is for you only, and very important.”

“Bring him up then,” and Percy began to bite his nails. As managing his brother’s estate he had let Thorpe Stanlowe, himself retiring to chambers in Piccadilly, where he lived as much a Sybarite as his somewhat gross ideals permitted.

“What’s the matter?” he snapped, as the messenger, a spruce young man with side-whiskers, entered the room.

“Dr. Fernhurst told me to give you this letter, sir, and await your reply,” he said with a respectful bow.

Percy opened the letter in some trepidation, and read:—

Axford, July 25.

Dear Percy,

I send this by my chief attendant (Bonting), as I must have an answer this afternoon. Jenkinson, the attendant I selected for John, as not being too ’cute, came home drunk last night, and when I reprimanded him, got very cheeky before some of the others, so I sacked him on the spot. This morning he asked to see me privately concerning John, and then told me he knew all about
it
! He said he didn’t mind leaving, as he wanted to join his brother at the new gold-fields of Adansi; but, unless I would give him £500 down, he would split to the L.C.’s visitor. I can’t think how he got to know, but he said enough to show he
does
know, so there seems no help for it. Fortunately he agrees to go by the mail which leaves in a couple of days, and I hear most people leave their bodies at Adansi—even if their spirits return! Bonting will see him safely off. Please give Bonting the cash in
small
notes. A cheque will only lead to delay and possible complications.

Yours in haste,

Arthur Fernhurst.

Having read this letter, Windrush scanned it closely, as if hoping to read into it another meaning than that which appeared on the surface.

“The doctor was rather in a hurry when he wrote this?” he remarked at length.

“I didn’t see him write it, sir, but I know that he was rather upset this morning.”

Windrush hastily scribbled a note, and enclosing a cheque in it, rang the bell. “James,” to the servant, “take this round to the Bank, and bring me back the answer as soon as possible.”

“What had upset the doctor then?” he continued.

“Why, sir, I’m sorry to say that Mr. Windrush’s attendant got drunk, and was very insolent to the doctor yesterday, so he dismissed him. But as he wants to go out to Africa, the doctor has very kindly helped him to a passage.”

“Ah, very kind of the doctor, to be sure!” remarked Percy dryly. “I don’t remember your face; have you been long with Dr. Fernhurst?”

“Not a great while, sir.”

Percy again took up his pen. He was not a very ready correspondent, and sucked the holder for a minute or so between each sentence, so that it was only as the servant returned from the Bank that he finished his letter. Taking the packet, he enclosed it with the letter in a stout envelope, and handed it to Dr. Fernhurst’s messenger.

“Be as quick as you can back,” he said. “The doctor wants this as soon as possible, but be careful; its contents are valuable.”

Pringle, for it was he, retired with a sense of having satisfactorily played the first hand in his game of bluff. He congratulated himself that his powers of penmanship had not deteriorated. True, Percy had detected a change in what purported to be Fernhurst’s writing, but then that was explained by his presumed agitation at the time. Ah, they would both, in sober truth, be agitated before they were much older! Lucky he had secured some stamped paper when he was at the Asylum! Matters wouldn’t have been quite so simple if old Toddington had refused to part with the correspondence. And as he passed eastward on an omnibus, Pringle opened Percy’s letter, and having carefully pocketed the bank-notes, read with much satisfaction—