The Lunatic at Large

by J. Storer Clouston

  CHAPTER I.

  In a certain fertile and well-wooded county of England there stands a highstone wall. On a sunny day the eye of the traveller passing through thisprovince is gratified by the sparkle of myriads of broken bottles arrangedclosely and continuously along its coping-stone. Above these shiningfacets the boughs of tall trees swing in the wind and throw their shadowsacross the highway. The wall at last leaves the road and follows the parkround its entire extent. Its height never varies; the broken bottlesglitter perpetually; and only through two entrances, and that when thegates are open, can one gain a single glimpse inside: for the gates aresolid, with no chinks for the curious.

  The country all round is undulating, and here and there from the crest ofan eminence you can see a great space of well-timbered park land withinthis wall; and in winter, when the leaves are off the trees, you may spyan imposing red-brick mansion in the midst.

  Any native will inform you, with a mixture of infectious awe and becomingpride, that this is no less than the far-famed private asylum ofClankwood.

  This ideal institution bore the enviable reputation of containing thebest-bred lunatics in England. It was credibly reported that however wellmarked their symptoms and however well developed their delusions, none butladies and gentlemen of the most unblemished descent were permitted toenjoy its seclusion. The dances there were universally considered the mostagreeable functions in the county. The conversation of many of the inmateswas of the widest range and the most refreshing originality, and thedemeanour of all, even when most free from the conventional trammels ofoutside society, bore evidence of an expensive, and in some cases of aChristian, upbringing. This is scarcely to be wondered at, when beneathone roof were assembled the heirs-presumptive to three dukedoms, twosuicidal marquises, an odd archbishop or so, and the flower of thebaronetage and clergy. As this list only includes a few of the celebritiesable or willing to be introduced to distinguished visitors, and makes nomention of the uncorroborated dignities (such as the classical divinitiesand Old Testament duplicates), the anxiety shown by some people to certifytheir relations can easily be understood.

  Dr Congleton, the proprietor and physician of Clankwood, was a gentlemansingularly well fitted to act as host on the occasion of asylum reunions.No one could exceed him in the respect he showed to a coroneted head, evenwhen cracked; and a bishop under his charge was always secured, as far aspossible, from the least whisper of heretical conversation. He possessedbesides a pleasant rubicund countenance and an immaculate wardrobe. He wasfurther fortunate in having in his assistants, Dr Escott and Dr Sherlaw,two young gentlemen whose medical knowledge was almost equal to theaffability of their manners and the excellence of their familyconnections.

  One November night these two were sitting over a comfortable fire inSherlaw's room. Twelve o'clock struck, Escott finished the remains ofsomething in a tumbler, rose, and yawned sleepily.

  "Time to turn in, young man," said he.

  "I suppose it is," replied Sherlaw, a very pleasant and boyish younggentleman. "Hullo! What's that? A cab?"

  They both listened, and some way off they could just pick out a sound likewheels upon gravel.

  "It's very late for any one to be coming in," said Escott.

  The sound grew clearer and more unmistakably like a cab rattling quicklyup the drive.

  "It is a cab," said Sherlaw.

  They heard it draw up before the front door, and then there came a pause.

  "Who the deuce can it be?" muttered Escott.

  In a few minutes there came a knock at the door, and a servant entered.

  "A new case, sir. Want's to see Dr Congleton particular."

  "A man or a woman?"

  "Man, sir."

  "All right," growled Sherlaw. "I'll come, confound him."

  "Bad luck, old man," laughed Escott. "I'll wait here in case by any chanceyou want me."

  He fell into his chair again, lit a cigarette, and sleepily turned overthe pages of a book. Dr Sherlaw was away for a little time, and when hereturned his cheerful face wore a somewhat mystified expression.

  "Well?" asked Escott.

  "Rather a rum case," said his colleague, thoughtfully.

  "What's the matter?"

  "Don't know."

  "Who was it?"

  "Don't know that either."

  Escott opened his eyes.

  "What happened, then?"

  "Well," said Sherlaw, drawing his chair up to the fire again, "I'll tellyou just what did happen, and you can make what you can out of it. Ofcourse, I suppose it's all right, really, but--well, the proceedings were alittle unusual, don't you know.

  "I went down to the door, and there I found a four-wheeler with a manstanding beside it. The door of the cab was shut, and there seemed to betwo more men inside. This chap who'd got out--a youngish man--hailed me atonce as though he'd bought the whole place.

  " 'You Dr Congleton?'

  " 'Damn your impertinence!' I said to myself, 'ringing people up at thishour, and talking like a bally drill-sergeant.'

  "I told him politely I wasn't old Congers, but that I'd make a good enoughsubstitute for the likes of him.

  " 'I tell you what it is,' said the Johnnie, 'I've brought a patient forDr Congleton, a cousin of mine, and I've got a doctor here, too. I want tosee Dr Congleton.'

  " 'He's probably in bed,' I said, 'but I'll do just as well. I supposehe's certified, and all that.'

  " 'Oh, it's all right,' said the man, rather as though he expected me tosay that it wasn't. He looked a little doubtful what to do, and then Iheard some one inside the cab call him. He stuck his head in the windowand they confabbed for a minute, and then he turned to me and said, withthe most magnificent air you ever saw, like a chap buying a set of diamondstuds, 'My friend here is a great personal friend of Dr Congleton, andit's a damned---- I mean it's an uncommonly delicate matter. We must seehim.'

  " 'Well, if you insist, I'll see if I can get him,' I said; 'but you'dbetter come in and wait.'

  "So the Johnnie opened the door of the cab, and there was a great haulingand pushing, my friend pulling an arm from the outside, and the doctorshoving from within, and at last they fetched out their patient. He was atall man, in a very smart-looking, long, light top-coat, and a cap with alarge peak shoved over his eyes, and he seemed very unsteady on his pins.

  " 'Drunk, by George!' I said to myself at first.

  "The doctor--another young-looking man--hopped out after him, and they eachtook an arm, lugged their patient into the waiting-room, and popped himinto an armchair. There he collapsed, and sat with his head hanging downas limp as a sucked orange.

  "I asked them if anything was the matter with him.

  " 'Only tired,--just a little sleepy,' said the cousin.

  "And do you know, Escott, what I'd stake my best boots was the matter withhim?"

  "What?"

  "The man was drugged!"

  Escott looked at the fire thoughtfully.

  "Well," he said, "it's quite possible; he might have been too violent tomanage."

  "Why couldn't they have said so, then?"

  "H'm. Not knowing, can't say. What happened next?"

  "Next thing was, I asked the doctor what name I should give. He answeredin a kind of nervous way, 'No name; you needn't give any name. I know DrCongleton personally. Ask him to come, please.' So off I tooled, and foundold Congers just thinking of turning in.

  " 'My clients are sometimes unnecessarily discreet', he remarked in hispompous way when I told him about the arrival, and of course he added hisusual platitude about our reputation for discretion.

  "I went back with him to the waiting-room, and just stood at the door longenough to see him hail the doctor chap very cordially and be introduced tothe patient's cousin, and then I came away. Rather rum, isn't it?"

  "You've certainly made the best of the yarn," said Escott with a laugh.

  "By George, if you'd been there you'd have thought it funny too."


  "Well, good-night, I'm off. We'll probably hear to-morrow what it's allabout."

  But in the morning there was little more to be learned about thenew-comer's history and antecedents. Dr Congleton spoke of the matter tothe two young men, with the pompous cough that signified extremediscretion.

  "Brought by an old friend of mine," he said. "A curious story, Escott, butquite intelligible. There seem to be the best reasons for answering noquestions about him; you understand?"

  "Certainly, sir," said the two assistants, with the more assurance as theyhad no information to give.

  "I am perfectly satisfied, mind you--perfectly satisfied," added theirchief.

  "By the way, sir," Sherlaw ventured to remark, "hadn't they given himsomething in the way of a sleeping-draught?"

  "Eh? Indeed? I hardly think so, Sherlaw, I hardly think so. Case ofreaction entirely. Good morning."

  "Congleton seems satisfied," remarked Escott.

  "I'll tell you what," said the junior, profoundly. "Old Congers is a verygood chap, and all that, but he's not what I should call extra sharp. _I_should feel uncommon suspicious."

  "H'm," replied Escott. "As you say, our worthy chief is not extra sharp.But that's not our business, after all."