CHAPTER XV
THE COMING AND GOING OF MR. FRANKLIN WILMOT
Both men looked up as Lady Deringham entered the room, carefully closingthe 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 mostfortunate! Something very singular has happened. You will be able totell 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 assented. "This is his card. Heseemed surprised that his name was not familiar to me. He was quite surethat 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 hecould not immediately remember in what connection. Suddenly it flashedinto his mind.
"Of course!" he exclaimed. "He is a famous physician--a very greatswell, goes to Court and all that!"
Lady Deringham nodded.
"He has introduced himself as a physician. He has brought this letterfrom Dr. Whitlett."
Wolfenden took the note from her hand. It was written on half a sheetof 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 assistance 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 circumstances, 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, tocall on an errand of this sort."
"So I thought," Lady Deringham agreed; "but Dr. Whitlett's explanationseems 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 manwas sitting in a corner, under a palm tree. In one hand he held amagazine, the pictures of which he seemed to be studying with the aid ofan eyeglass, the other was raised to his mouth. He was in the act ofindulging 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, Ipresume?" the latter remarked at once.
Wolfenden assented.
"Yes! I am afraid that it will be a little difficult to get my father tosee you on such short notice."
"I was about to explain to Lady Deringham, before I understood that youwere in the house," Dr. Wilmot said, "that although that would be anadvantage, it is not absolutely necessary at present. I should of coursehave to examine your father before giving a definite opinion as to hiscase, but I can give you a very fair idea as to his condition withoutseeing him at all."
Wolfenden and his mother exchanged glances.
"You must forgive us," Wolfenden commenced hesitatingly, "but really Ican scarcely understand."
"Of course not," their visitor interrupted brusquely. "My method is onewhich is doubtless altogether strange to you, but if you read the_Lancet_ or the _Medical Journal_, you would have heard a good dealabout it lately. I form my conclusions as to the mental condition of apatient almost altogether from a close inspection of their letters, orany work upon which they are, or have been, recently engaged. I do notsay that it is possible to do this from a single letter, but when a manhas a hobby, such as I understand Lord Deringham indulges in, and hasdevoted a great deal of time to real or imaginary work in connectionwith it, I am generally able, from a study of that work, to tell howfar the brain is weakened, if at all, and in what manner it can bestrengthened. This is only the crudest outline of my theory, but to bebrief, I can give you my opinion as to Lord Deringham's mentalcondition, and my advice as to its maintenance, if you will place beforeme the latest work upon which he has been engaged. I hope I have mademyself clear."
"Perfectly," Wolfenden answered. "It sounds very reasonable and veryinteresting, but I am afraid that there are a few practical difficultiesin the way. In the first place, my father does not show his work or anyportion of it to any one. On the other hand he takes the mostextraordinary precautions to maintain absolute secrecy with regard toit."
"That," Dr. Wilmot remarked, "is rather a bad feature of the case. It isa difficulty which I should imagine you could get over, though. Youcould easily frame some excuse to get him away from his study for ashort time and leave me there. Of course the affair is in your handsaltogether, and I am presuming that you are anxious to have an opinionas to your father's state of health. I am not in the habit of seekingpatients," he added, a little stiffly. "I was interested in my friendWhitlett's description of the case, and anxious to apply my theories toit, as it happens to differ in some respects from anything I have metwith lately. Further, I may add," he continued, glancing at the clock,"if anything is to be done it must be done quickly. I have no time tospare."
"You had better," Wolfenden suggested, "stay here for the night in anycase. We will send you to the station, or into Cromer, as early as youlike in the morning."
"Absolutely impossible," Dr. Wilmot replied briefly. "I am staying withfriends in Cromer, and I have a consultation in town early to-morrowmorning. You must really make up your minds at once whether you wishfor my opinion or not."
"I do not think," Lady Deringham said, "that we need hesitate for amoment about that!"
Wolfenden looked at him doubtfully. There seemed to be no possibility ofanything but advantage in accepting this offer, and yet in a sense hewas sorry that it had been made.
"In case you should attach any special importance to your father'smanuscripts," Dr. Wilmot remarked, with a note of sarcasm in his tone,"I might add that it is not at all necessary for me to be alone in thestudy."
Wolfenden felt a little uncomfortable under the older man's keen gaze.Neither did he altogether like having his thoughts read so accurately.
"I suppose," he said, turning to his mother, "you could manage to gethim away from the library for a short time?"
"I could at least try," she answered. "Shall I?"
"I think," he said, "that as Dr. Wilmot has been good enough to go outof his way to call here, we must make an effort."
Lady Deringham left the room.
Dr. Wilmot, whose expression of absolute impassiveness had not alteredin the least during their discussion, turned towards Wolfenden.
"Have you yourself," he said, "never seen any of your father'smanuscripts? Has he never explained the scheme of his work to you?"
Wolfenden shook his head.
"I know the central idea," he answered--"the weakness of our navy andcoast defences, and that is about all I know. My father, even when hewas an admiral on active service, took an absolutely pessimistic view ofboth. You may perhaps remember this. The Lords of the Admiralty used toconsider him, I believe, the one great thorn in their sides."
Dr. Wilmot shook his head.
"I have never taken any inter
est in such matters," he said. "Myprofession has been completely absorbing during the last ten years."
Wolfenden nodded.
"I know," he remarked, "that I used to read the newspapers and wonderwhy on earth my father took such pains to try and frighten everybody.But he is altogether changed now. He even avoids the subject, although Iam quite sure that it is his one engrossing thought. It is certain thatno one has ever given such time and concentrated energy to it before. Ifonly his work was the work of a sane man I could understand it beingvery valuable."
"Not the least doubt about it, I should say," Dr. Wilmot repliedcarelessly.
The door opened and Lady Deringham reappeared.
"I have succeeded," she said. "He is upstairs now. I will try and keephim there for half an hour. Wolfenden, will you take Dr. Wilmot into thestudy?"
Dr. Wilmot rose with quiet alacrity. Wolfenden led the way down the longpassage which led to the study. He himself was scarcely prepared forsuch signs of unusual labours as confronted them both when they openedthe door. The round table in the centre of the room was piled with booksand a loose heap of papers. A special rack was hung with a collection ofmaps and charts. There were nautical instruments upon the table, andcompasses, as well as writing materials, and a number of small models ofmen-of-war. Mr. Blatherwick, who was sitting at the other side of theroom busy with some copying, looked up in amazement at the entrance ofWolfenden and a stranger upon what was always considered forbiddenground.
Wolfenden stepped forward at once to the table. A sheet of paper laythere on which the ink was scarcely yet dry. Many others were scatteredabout, almost undecipherable, with marginal notes and corrections in hisfather's handwriting. He pushed some of them towards his companion.
"You can help yourself," he said. "This seems to be his most recentwork."
Dr. Wilmot seemed scarcely to hear him. He had turned the lamp up withquick fingers, and was leaning over those freshly written pages.Decidedly he was interested in the case. He stood quite still readingwith breathless haste--the papers seemed almost to fly through hisfingers. Wolfenden was a little puzzled. Mr. Blatherwick, who had beenwatching the proceedings with blank amazement, rose and came overtowards them.
"You will excuse me, Lord Wolfenden," he said, "but if the admiralshould come back and find a stranger with you looking over his work, hewill----"
"It's all right, Blatherwick," Wolfenden interrupted, the moreimpatiently since he was far from comfortable himself. "This gentlemanis a physician."
The secretary resumed his seat. Dr. Wilmot was reading withlightning-like speed sheet after sheet, making frequent notes in apocket-book which he had laid on the table before him. He was soabsorbed that he did not seem to hear the sound of wheels coming up theavenue.
Wolfenden walked to the window, and raising the curtain, looked out. Hegave vent to a little exclamation of relief as he saw a familiar dogcartdraw up at the hall door, and Dr. Whitlett's famous mare pulled steamingon to her haunches.
"It is Dr. Whitlett," he exclaimed. "He has followed you up prettysoon."
The sheet which the physician was reading fluttered through his fingers.There was a very curious look in his face. He walked up to the windowand looked out.
"So it is," he remarked. "I should like to see him at once for half aminute--then I shall have finished. I wonder whether you would mindgoing yourself and asking him to step this way?"
Wolfenden turned immediately to leave the room. At the door he turnedsharply round, attracted by a sudden noise and an exclamation fromBlatherwick. Dr. Wilmot had disappeared! Mr. Blatherwick was gazing atthe window in amazement!
"He's gone, sir! Clean out of the window--jumped it like a cat!"
Wolfenden sprang to the curtains. The night wind was blowing into theroom through the open casement. Fainter and fainter down the long avenuecame the sound of galloping horses. Dr. Franklin Wilmot had certainlygone!
Wolfenden turned from the window to find himself face to face with Dr.Whitlett.
"What on earth is the matter with your friend Wilmot?" he exclaimed. "Hehas just gone off through the window like a madman!"
"Wilmot!" the doctor exclaimed. "I never knew any one of that name in mylife. The fellow's a rank impostor!"
Mysterious Mr. Sabin Page 16