The Lunatic at Large

by J. Storer Clouston

  CHAPTER VII.

  The party at Brierley Park had gone at last to bed. The Baron wasinstalled in his late usurper's room, and from the clock-tower the hour ofthree had just been tolled. Sympathy and Sir Richard's cellar had greatlymollified the Baron's wrath; he had almost begun to see the humorous sideof his late experience; as a rival Mr Bunker was extinct, and with an easymind and a placid smile he had fallen asleep some two hours past.

  The fire burned low, and for long nothing but the occasional sigh of thewind in the trees disturbed the silence. At length, had the Baron beenawake, he might have heard the stealthiest of footsteps in the corridoroutside. Then they stopped; his door was gently opened, and first a headand then a whole man slipped in.

  Still the Baron slept, dreaming peacefully of his late companion. Theywere driving somewhere in a hansom, Mr Bunker was telling one of his mostamusing stories, when there came a shock, the hansom seemed to turn asomersault, and the Baron awoke. At first he thought he must be dreamingstill; the electric light had been turned on and the room was bright asday, but, more bewildering yet, Mr Bunker was seated on his bed, gazing athim with an expression of thoughtful amusement.

  "Well, Baron," he said, "I trust you are comfortable in these excellentquarters."

  The Baron, half awake and wholly astonished, was unable to collect hisideas in time to make any reply.

  "But remember," continued Mr Bunker, "you have a reputation to live up to.I have set the standard high for Bavarian barons."

  The indignant Baron at last recovered his wits.

  "If you do not go away _at vonce_," he said, raising himself on hiselbows, "I shall raise ze house upon you!"

  "Have you forgotten that you are talking to a dangerous lunatic, whoprobably never stirs without his razor?"

  The Baron looked at him and turned a little pale. He made no furthermovement, but answered stoutly enough, "Vat do you vant?"

  "In the first place, I want my brush and comb, a few clothes, and myhand-bag. Events happened rather more quickly this evening than I hadanticipated."

  "Take zem."

  "I should also like," continued Mr Bunker, unmoved, "to have a little talkwith you. I think I owe you some explanation--perhaps an apology or two--andI'm afraid it's my last chance."

  "Zay it zen."

  "Of course I understand that you make no hostile demonstration till I amfinished? A hunted man must take precautions, you know."

  "I vill let you go."

  "Thanks, Baron."

  Mr Bunker folded his arms, leaned his back against the foot of the bed,and began in his half-bantering way, "I have amused you, Baron, now andthen, you must admit?"

  The Baron made no reply.

  "That I place to my credit, and I think few debts are better worthrepaying. On the other hand, I confess I have subsisted for some timeentirely on your kindness. I'm afraid that alone counterbalances the debt,and when it comes to my being the means of your taking a bath in mixedcompany and spending an evening in a locked room, there's no doubt thebalance is greatly on your side."

  "I zink so," observed the Baron.

  "So I'll tell you a true story, a favour with which I haven't indulged anyone for some considerable time."

  The Baron coughed, but said nothing.

  "My biography for all practical purposes," Mr Bunker continued, "begins inthat sequestered retreat, Clankwood Asylum. How and with whom I came thereI haven't the very faintest recollection. I simply woke up from anextraordinary drowsiness to find myself recovering from a sharp attack ofwhat I may most euphoniously call mental excitement. The original cause ofit is very dim in my mind, and has, so far as I remember, nothing to dowith the rest of the story. The attack was very short, I believe. I sooncame to something more or less like myself; only, Baron, the singularthing is, that it was to all intents and purposes a new self--whetherbetter or worse, my faulty memory does not permit me to say. I'd cleanforgotten who I was and all about me. I found myself called FrancisBeveridge, but that wasn't my old name, I know."

  "Ha!" exclaimed the Baron, growing interested despite himself.

  "And the most remarkable thing of all is that up till this day I haven'tthe very vaguest notion what my real name is."

  "Zo?" said the Baron. "Bot vy should they change it?"

  "There you've laid your finger on the mystery, Baron. Why? Heaven knows: Iwish I did!"

  The Baron looked at him with undisguised interest.

  "Strange!" he said, thoughtfully.

  "Damnably strange. I found myself compelled to live in an asylum andanswer to a new name, and really, don't you know, under the circumstancesI could give no very valid reason for getting out. I seemed to haveblossomed there like one of the asylum plants. I couldn't possibly havebeen more identified with the place. Besides, I'm free to confess that forsome time my reason, taking it all in all, wasn't particularly valid onany point. By George, I had a funny time! Ha, ha, ha!"

  His mirth was so infectious that the Baron raised his voice in a hearty"Ha, ha!" and then stopped abruptly, and said cautiously, "Haf a care,Bonker, zey may hear!"

  "However, Baron," Mr Bunker continued, "out I was determined to get, andout I came in the manner of which perhaps my friend Escott has alreadyinformed you."

  The Baron grinned and nodded.

  "I came up to town, and on my very first evening I had the good fortune tomeet the Baron Rudolph von Blitzenberg--as perhaps you may remember. In myown defence, Baron, I may fairly plead that since I could remember nothingabout my past career, I was entitled to supply the details from myimagination. After all, I have no proof that some of my stories may nothave been correct. I used this privilege freely in Clankwood, and, in aword, since I couldn't tell the truth if I wanted to, I quenched thedesire."

  "You hombog!" said the Baron, not without a note of admiration.

  "I was, and I gloried in it. Baron, if you ever want to know how ample athing life can be, become a certified lunatic! You are quite irresponsiblefor your debts, your crimes, and, not least, your words. It certainlyenlarges one's horizon. All this time, I may say, I was racking mybrains--which, by the way, have been steadily growing saner in othermatters--for some recollections of my previous whereabouts, my career, if Ihad any, and, above all, of my name."

  "Can you remember nozing?"

  "I can remember a large country house which I think belonged to me, but inwhat part of the country it stands I haven't the slightest recollection. Ican't remember any family, and as no one has inquired for me, I don'tsuppose I had any. Many incidents--sporting, festive, amusing, anddiscreditable--I remember distinctly, and many faces, but there's nothingto piece them together with. Can you recall one or two incidents in town,when people spoke to me or bowed to me?"

  "Yes, vell; I vondered zen."

  "I suppose they knew me. In a general sort of way I knew them. But when aman doesn't know his own name, and will probably be replaced in an asylumif he's identified, there isn't much encouragement for greeting oldfriends. And do you remember my search for a name in the hotel at StEgbert's?"

  "Yah--zat is, yes."

  "It was for my own I was looking."

  "You found it not?"

  "No. The worst of it is, I can't even remember what letter it began with.Sometimes I think it was M, or perhaps N, and sometimes I'm almost sure itwas E. It will come to me some day, no doubt, Baron, but till it does Ishall have to wander about a nameless man, looking for it. And after all,I am not without the consolations of a certain useful, workaday kind ofphilosophy."

  He rose from the bed and smiled humorously at his friend.

  "And now, Baron," he said, "it only remains to offer you such thanks andapologies as a lunatic may, and then clear out before the cock crows.These are my brushes, I think."

  There was still something on the Baron's mind: he lay for a momentwatching Mr Bunker collect a few odds and ends and put them rapidly into asmall bag, and then blurted out suddenly, "Ze Lady Alicia--do you loffher?"

>   "By Jove!" exclaimed Mr Bunker, "I'd forgotten all about her. I ought tohave told you that I once met her before, when she showedsympathy--practical sympathy, I may add--for an unfortunate gentleman inClankwood. That's all."

  "You do not loff her?" persisted the Baron.

  "I, my dear chap? No. You are most welcome to her--_and_ the countess."

  "Does she not loff you?"

  "On my honour, no. I told her a few early reminiscences; she happened todiscover they were not what is generally known as true, and took so absurda view of the case that I doubt whether she would speak to me again if shemet me. In fact, Baron, if I read the omens aright--and I've had someexperience--you only need courage and a voice."

  The bed creaked, there was a volcanic upheaval of the clothes as the Baronsprang out on to the floor, and the next instant Mr Bunker was clasped inhis embrace.

  "Ach, my own Bonker, forgif me! I haf suspected, I haf not been ze truefriend; you have sairved me right to gom here as ze Baron. I vas too bad aBaron to gom! You have amused me, you have instrogted, you have varmed myheart. My dear frient!"

  To tell the truth, Mr Bunker looked, for the first time in theiracquaintance, a little ill at ease. He laughed, but it sounded affected.

  "My dear fellow--hang it! You'd make me out a martyr. As a matter of fact,I've been such a thorn as very few people would stand in their flesh.There's nothing to forgive, my dear Baron, and a lot to thank you for."

  "I haf been rude, Bonker; I haf insulted you! You forgif me?"

  "With all my heart, if you think it's needed, but----"

  "And you vill not go now? You vill stay here?"

  "What, two Barons at once? My dear chap, we'd merely confuse the butler."

  "Ach, you vill joke, you hombog! But you most stay!"

  "And what about my friend, Dr Escott? No, Baron, it would only meanbreakfast and the next train to Clankwood."

  "Zey vill not take you ven you tell zem! I shall insist viz Sir Richard!"

  "The law is the law, Baron, and I'm a certified lunatic. Here we must parttill the weather clears; and mind, you mustn't say a word about my comingto see you."

  The Baron looked at him disconsolately.

  "You most really go, Bonker?"

  "Really, Baron."

  "And vere to?"

  "To London town again by the milk train."

  "And vat vill you do zere?"

  "Look for my name."

  "Bot how?"

  Mr Bunker hesitated.

  "I have a little clue," he said at last, "only a thread, but I'll try itfor what it's worth."

  "Haf you money enoff?"

  "Thanks to your generosity and my skill at billiards, yes, which remindsme that I must return poor Trelawney's ten pounds some day. At present, Ican't afford to be scrupulous. So, you see, I'm provided for."

  "Cigars at least, Bonker! You most smoke, my frient vizout a name!"

  The Baron, night-shirted and barefooted as he was, dived into hisportmanteau and produced a large box of cigars.

  "You like zese, Bonker. Zey are your own choice. Smoke zem and zink ofme!"

  "A few, Baron, would be a pleasant reminiscence," said his friend, with asmile, "if you really insist."

  "All, Bonker,--I vill not keep vun! I can get more. No, you most take zemall!"

  Mr Bunker opened his bag and put in the box without a word.

  "You most write," said the Baron, "tell me vere you are. I shall not tellany soul, bot ven I can, I shall gom up, and ve shall sup togezzer vuncemore. Pairhaps ve may haf anozzer adventure, ha, ha!"

  The Baron's laugh was almost too hearty to be true.

  "I shall let you know, as soon as I find a room. It won't be in theMayonaise this time! Good-bye: good sport and luck in love!"

  "Good-bye, my frient, good-bye," said the Baron, squeezing his hand.

  His friend was half out of the door when he turned, and said with anintonation quite foreign either to Beveridge or Bunker, and yet which camevery pleasantly, "I forgot to warn you of one thing when I advised you totry the _role_ of certified lunatic--you are not likely to make so good afriend as I have."

  He shut the door noiselessly and was gone.

  The Baron stood in the middle of the floor for fully five minutes, lookingblankly at the closed door; then with a sigh he turned out the light andtumbled into bed again.

  PART IV.