The Mind of Mr Soames

by Maine, Charles Eric

  The police had rigged up a compact radio transceiver on the stage with a tubular aerial fixed to a wire near the roof, and a uniformed patrolman, his cap off and his blue jacket casually unfastened, was sitting on a chair by the equipment to carry out the duties of operator. On a table in the centre of the floor a number of Ordnance Survey maps of the area had been pinned. Detective-Inspector Bryce and other key officers of police and army were sitting around the table, making pencil marks on the map and talking together in subdued voices. At the other end of the room a trestle table had been taken over by the WVS and already an electric urn was producing boiling water for tea and coffee. Two women were in the process of cutting bread and making sandwiches. The elder of the two was a short plump woman with glasses, and the other, tall, quite elegant, with blue eyes and bronze-coloured hair, was obviously Mrs Dewison.

  Quite attractive, Conway thought, looking her over from a distance. Old enough to be mature, but with faintly neurotic undertones in her manner—the kind of woman who might, if it came to the point, enjoy being raped, as she had alleged, by Mr Soames.

  It was Dr Takaito who took the initiative so far as Jennifer was concerned. As soon as coffee was available he went over to the trestle table, closely followed by Conway, and asked for two cups. The plump bespectacled woman served with an effusion of amiable good will. Takaito then moved to the end of the table where Mrs Dewison was laying out cups and saucers.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said, with a tremendous show of Japanese politeness, ‘but surely you must be the young lady who had the unfortunate encounter with Mr Soames yesterday.’

  She studied him thoughtfully and rather uneasily for a few moments, then glanced quickly at Conway.

  ‘I have already discussed the matter with the police,’ she said. ‘I don’t really think there is anything else I can add.’

  ‘I understand perfectly, Mrs Dewison. Perhaps I ought to explain that I am Dr Takaito, and this is my colleague, Dr Conway. We are both from the Osborne Psychoneural Institute.’ He leaned forward confidentially. ‘You may remember that I was the surgeon who performed the operation on Mr Soames’s brain, so in a way’—he smiled modestly—‘I feel responsible for everything that has happened since.’

  The plump woman with the glasses was edging closer to eavesdrop on what was obviously a confidential conversation.

  Takaito said: ‘I realise that you are very busy, Mrs Dewison, but if your partner could hold the fort, as it were, for a minute or two, perhaps we could talk quietly elsewhere over a cup of coffee.’

  She looked at him uneasily, not noticeably reassured by his bland manner. ‘Well, I don’t know...’

  ‘It might be very important, for both you and Mr Soames.’ She hesitated for a moment, then said to her partner: ‘I’ll only be a moment, Elsie. I’ve got some private business to discuss.’

  She poured herself a coffee, and the three of them retired to the chairs at the side of the room, Takaito and Conway sitting on either side of her.

  ‘I understand that you were assaulted by Mr Soames,’ Takaito said. ‘I should like to know more about it, in careful detail, if you would not object.’

  ‘I’m afraid I do object,’ she said coldly. ‘Surely as a doctor you must have come into contact with this kind of situation before, and you must know all the details.’

  Takaito smiled deferentially. ‘Frankly, no. I specialise in dogs, but my colleague, Dr Conway...’ He nodded towards Conway, who immediately seized the cue.

  ‘Yes, Mrs Dewison,’ he said, ‘in normal psychiatric practice we frequently come across sexual deviation, including rape. In such cases we are dealing with ordinary adult people—that is, ordinary in the sense that they have had, in some degree or other, a conventional upbringing and education from birth. Whether they began as orphans in a home or spoonfed heirs in a mansion is beside the point—perversion enters all levels of society. In the case of Mr Soames the conventions do not apply. His mental age in terms of time is just a few months, and if you assess his IQ on that basis then he is mentally very advanced. On the other hand, during the period of his education to date he received no sex education whatever.’

  ‘I think he learned more in the wood than he ever learned in the Institute,’ she commented.

  ‘Possibly. But observation is not the same as participation. Perhaps what he saw, at some distance and under conditions of stress and fear, tended to localise the sex drive—in anatomical terms, I mean. I doubt whether the experience was as educational as you suggest. It would probably increase his confusion rather than clarify it. Just how did Mr Soames begin this act of rape?’

  Embarrassed and uncertain she glanced from one to the other. ‘As soon as he awoke he started holding me and touching me. I was afraid.’

  ‘Holding you and touching you where?’

  ‘He gripped my arms and held me round the waist.’

  ‘And what did you do?’

  ‘I broke away, of course. I could sense what he had in mind.’

  ‘But you did not know at that time that he was Mr Soames.’

  ‘No.’

  Conway raised his eyebrows. ‘Why didn’t you telephone the police, if you anticipated a sexual assault?’

  She interlaced her fingers and rubbed her thumbs together uneasily. ‘I—I was terrified.’

  ‘Of what?’

  ‘Of... what we’ve been talking about.’

  Takaito said: ‘You were terrified of the possibility of sexual assault so you did not call the police because you were terrified of the possibility of sexual assault. That hardly makes sense, Mrs Dewison.’

  ‘I just... didn’t know what to do,’ she said hesitantly.

  ‘Now let’s start again,’ Takaito suggested, ‘bearing in mind that Dr Conway is a psychiatrist and I am a psychoneurologist, and we do understand a little about the basic principles of human behaviour. At this moment we are not concerned with the behaviour pattern of Mr Soames—we are concerned with you.’ He paused, regarding her solemnly. ‘You are a normal, rational adult woman, Mrs Dewison. If I may make an assessment of your character, you are invariably calm and self-possessed, unlikely to panic unnecessarily, possessing a normal sexual appetite, if that is the word, and perhaps rather neglected by your husband, who, I understand, has an addiction for alcohol. My own feeling is that if Mr Soames terrified you, then you would either call the police or escape from the house in desperation and seek the help of neighbours.’

  She sighed despondently. ‘Could I have a cigarette please?’ she asked.

  Conway offered her a cigarette and lit it for her.

  He said: ‘Don’t imagine we are interrogating you for any legal purpose. We are not policemen. Every word you say to us is in absolute confidence and will never be repeated.’

  She gave him a long, cold look. ‘What are you trying to prove, doctor?’

  It was Takaito who answered the question. ‘We are not trying to prove anything,’ he stated. ‘But we are trying to find out something.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘We are trying to discover whether there is one person—just one—whom Mr Soames regards as a friend. I’m afraid the outlook is rather black, Mr Soames is a man hated, feared and pursued by the entire human race, but there might be one exception. If anyone ever needed a friend, it is Mr Soames.’

  ‘What makes you think I’m his friend?’ she demanded. ‘Aren’t you?’

  ‘No. That is—I don’t give a damn about him.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because he means nothing, absolutely nothing, to me.’ Takaito smiled amiably. ‘For a woman who was allegedly raped you are remarkably detached and impersonal. Who is this man Soames? What do I care about him? I think if I were a woman who had been assaulted by Mr Soames I should feel much more strongly and personally about him. I should say—I do give a damn about him, and I want him to hang.’

  ‘You’re entitled to your opinion,’ she observed sullenly.

  ‘I put it to you,’ Takaito said, ‘that y
ou may well have been slightly afraid when Mr Soames first began to make fumbling advances. At the time you did not know that he was Mr Soames. But I also suggest that at some point you realised his true identity, and that was when you were no longer afraid. In fact, that was the moment when you became, let us say, fascinated and intrigued by a man who knew nothing of women.’

  ‘No,’ she protested, shaking her head. ‘It was not like that.’

  ‘I also put it to you that you and Mr Soames were on friendly terms—that you tried to help him. For one thing, he would not steal money, because money has always been a meaningless concept to him You gave him the money.’

  She said nothing, but just stared glumly at the floor.

  ‘And I think the same applies to the overcoat. It seems improbable that he would deliberately go through your husband’s wardrobe in search of an overcoat. He would hardly know what to look for, never having possessed one.’

  ‘Look, doctor,’ she said in weary appeal, ‘couldn’t we call it a day? What with the police, and now you...’

  ‘All I want to know is whether Mr Soames regards you as a friend—perhaps his only friend,’ Takaito insisted.

  She shrugged helplessly. ‘Perhaps so. How can I understand what goes on in his mind.’

  ‘So it was not exactly a question of rape.’

  ‘He was very persistent, and it was really against my better judgement. He was much stronger than me, so what could I do?’

  ‘But it was not accomplished by violence or force.’

  ‘Well—if we are talking confidentially, perhaps not.’

  ‘And, in fact, you played a rather active part in what we might term the further education of Mr Soames.’

  She nodded slowly, ashamedly. ‘I suppose you could put it that way, but you must understand...’

  ‘I understand perfectly, Mrs Dewison, and I am not criticising you in the least. I just wanted to be sure of the exact relationship between you and Mr Soames, because it may be that you will be able to help him before the night is out.’

  For a moment she looked startled. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

  ‘I am guessing—trying to assess every possibility. It may be useful to know that there is someone whom Mr Soames regards as a friend—someone he can trust, I don’t know for certain, but it may be so.’

  ‘I don’t want to be involved,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m already involved too far.’

  ‘One always is when one lies,’ he pointed out. ‘The only real freedom is in truth.’

  ‘You may be right,’ she admitted. ‘Perhaps I haven’t the character or wisdom to face up to the consequences of honesty.’

  ‘Mrs Dewison,’ Takaito said, ‘I am sure you are underrating yourself. At least you have been honest enough with Dr Conway and myself...’

  ‘Very reluctantly, I’m afraid, and only because I’m sick of the whole business. It was all Richard’s fault, anyway...’ She broke off abruptly.

  ‘Go on,’ Conway invited.

  ‘I’ve nothing more to say.’

  ‘Takaito leaned forward. The important thing is that if we should need your help, I know we can rely on you.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she murmured. ‘I really don’t know.’

  18

  Two hours later an important message came over the radio channel, and the operator signalled to Detective-Inspector Bryce. Conway, who was pacing the length of the hall, chain smoking, walked towards the stage, hoping sleepily that this time there would be some positive development. Already there had been too many false alarms. Dr Takaito, who earlier in the night had gone out on a mysterious mission, returning later with a bottle of whisky, was sitting in a quiet corner drinking quick nips and playing patience with a pack of miniature cards of the kind they put in children’s stockings at Christmas. The police had raised their eyebrows at the whisky, but had asked no questions.

  ‘Heywards Farm report an intruder,’ Conway overheard the operator saying. ‘The dogs were barking and they thought they heard someone moving in the south barn.’

  ‘Which is the nearest patrol?’ Bryce asked.

  ‘Baker Blue—and possibly the Army number four.’

  ‘All right. Have them close in. Get on to HQ to telephone the people at Heywards to do nothing and keep the dogs under control. Soames is a potential killler, and this is our show.’

  ‘Yes sir.’

  ‘Tell the patrols to cover the limits of the farm and stand by for further orders. They’re only to use the dogs if Soames tries to run for it.’

  The operator returned to his radio equipment. Bryce rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes in a gesture of fatigue and came down from the stage to where Conway was standing.

  ‘You heard that, Dr Conway?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘This may be it, or it may be another false alarm. I think perhaps well be lucky this time. About a quarter of an hour ago one of the patrols saw a moving figure outlined in the headlamps of a car near the main road to Oxleigh—not far from Heywards Farm. They lost track of him after that, but there was a distinct trail in the wet grass and signs of damage to a hedge where he probably broke through.’

  ‘Always assuming it is Mr Soames,’ Conway pointed out.

  ‘At this time of night and in that particular area, I think we might reasonably take that for granted.’

  Conway glanced at his watch. The time was nearly three a.m. ‘Added to which,’ said the quiet voice of Takaito from the rear, ‘it is pouring with rain again, and I doubt very much whether anyone other than Soames would be walking across open country under such conditions.’

  Conway looked round. Takaito had abandoned his cards and whisky as if he had know intuitively, even from across the hall, that the moment of action had arrived, and in some subtle way he seemed to be seizing the initiative.

  ‘Taking high probabilities as certainties,’ he went on, looking straight at Detective-Inspector Bryce, ‘I think this is the moment where we should go to the operational centre, as one might call it. If we have run Mr Soames to ground, then it is most important that nobody should hurt him and that he should not be given the opportunity to hurt anyone in turn.’

  ‘Agreed,’ Bryce said crisply. ‘We’ll leave now. I’ll take two patrol cars.’

  Takaito raised one finger in a silencing gesture.

  ‘There is one more thing, Inspector, and it is very important, We must take Mrs Dewison with us.’

  Bryce looked surprised. ‘You mean...?’

  ‘There is a liaison between Soames and the woman which may be extremely useful. It may solve many problems.’

  ‘But she is a principle witness in the Soames case.’

  Takaito smiled benignly. ‘There is no Soames case until Soames is caught—alive. We must take Mrs Dewison with us.’

  ‘Have you discussed this with the woman herself?’ Bryce asked doubtfully.

  ‘In a way. Naturally it would require a higher authority than mine to overcome her reluctance—an authority such as yours, for example.’

  ‘Well, may I ask what is the object of this move? What would Mrs Dewison be expected to do?’

  ‘Talk to Mr Soames—perhaps break down his stubborn defiance and open the way for Dr Conway and myself...’

  ‘But that was the very reason why I asked you and Dr Conway to come here tonight, as medical men with a deep understanding of his mind. The idea was that you should talk to him.’

  Takaito shook his head. ‘We represent authority, and he is in rebellion against authority. He is against all men at present and he believes all men are against him.’

  ‘Why should he imagine a woman—Mrs Dewison in particular—would not also be against him?’

  ‘Because I have reason to believe that she gained Soames’s confidence—that the alleged assault was rather a matter of collusion, or, let us say, co-operation followed by a selfdefensive change of attitude on her part.’

  ‘Yes, you may be right,’ Bryce admitted. ‘At least, I had my s
uspicions. I’ll talk to her, but you must understand that I have no real authority to force her to come with us.’

  ‘Force is not required,’ Takaito said, smiling. ‘Just a little persuasion and a little flattery.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ Bryce said, and went off in the direction of the refreshment counter.

  ❖

  Heywards Farm was on sloping ground at the foot of a bare hill gashed by quarries. In the darkness it was impossible to see the extent of the farm, which ranged modestly over some twelve acres, in the nature of a smallholding, devoted principally to beet, potatoes and salad vegetables. To the rear of the farm buildings was a chicken battery, a relatively new building with electrical facilities to produce marketable chickens on an automated basis. There were two small barns, mainly used to store equipment, and it was in the one to the south where Mr Soames was thought to have taken refuge.

  The owner of the farm was not Mr Heyward, as one might reasonably have supposed, but Mr Caravel—a short, red-faced man with ginger hair and an embryonic moustache who seemed excessively nervous about the whole situation. His wife, equally short, but extremely dark and rotund in appearance, made coffee, said nothing, but listened intently.

  They sat on hard wooden chairs, Detective-Inspector Bryce taking charge of the proceedings while Takaito, Conway and Mrs Dewison sat slightly to the rear, sipping enormous cups of black coffee. Takaito had brought his bottle of whisky with him and had poured a liberal quantity into the coffee, tacitly assuming that nobody else wanted any. It was an austere kitchen, quite large for its purpose, with distempered walls, plastic curtains across the window, a plain whitewood table, and in a corner near to a steel central heating boiler, a washing machine and spin dryer looking out of place in their pure white enamel coats.