“No, sir. It is two o’clock.”
“Very good. I will watch. You can go to sleep.” I lay down under thecoverlet as he had done, and was soon unconscious. My last recollectionwas of that circle of lamplight, and of the small, hunched-up figure andstrained, anxious face of Lord Linchmere in the centre of it.
How long I slept I do not know; but I was suddenly aroused by a sharptug at my sleeve. The room was in darkness, but a hot smell of oil toldme that the lamp had only that instant been extinguished.
“Quick! Quick!” said Lord Linchmere’s voice in my ear.
I sprang out of bed, he still dragging at my arm.
“Over here!” he whispered, and pulled me into a corner of the room.“Hush! Listen!”
In the silence of the night I could distinctly hear that someone wascoming down the corridor. It was a stealthy step, faint andintermittent, as of a man who paused cautiously after every stride.Sometimes for half a minute there was no sound, and then came theshuffle and creak which told of a fresh advance. My companion wastrembling with excitement. His hand which still held my sleeve twitchedlike a branch in the wind.
“What is it?” I whispered.
“It’s he!”
“Sir Thomas?”
“Yes.”
“What does he want?”
“Hush! Do nothing until I tell you.”
I was conscious now that someone was trying the door. There was thefaintest little rattle from the handle, and then I dimly saw a thin slitof subdued light. There was a lamp burning somewhere far down thepassage, and it just sufficed to make the outside visible from thedarkness of our room. The greyish slit grew broader and broader, verygradually, very gently, and then outlined against it I saw the darkfigure of a man. He was squat and crouching, with the silhouette of abulky and misshapen dwarf. Slowly the door swung open with this ominousshape framed in the centre of it. And then, in an instant the crouchingfigure shot up, there was a tiger spring across the room, and thud,thud, thud, came three tremendous blows from some heavy object upon thebed.
I was so paralyzed with amazement that I stood motionless and staringuntil I was aroused by a yell for help from my companion. The open doorshed enough light for me to see the outline of things, and there waslittle Lord Linchmere with his arms round the neck of hisbrother-in-law, holding bravely on to him like a game bull-terrier withits teeth into a gaunt deerhound. The tall, bony man dashed himselfabout, writhing round and round to get a grip upon his assailant; butthe other, clutching on from behind, still kept his hold, though hisshrill, frightened cries showed how unequal he felt the contest to be. Isprang to the rescue, and the two of us managed to throw Sir Thomas tothe ground, though he made his teeth meet in my shoulder. With all myyouth and weight and strength, it was a desperate struggle before wecould master his frenzied struggles; but at last we secured his armswith the waist-cord of the dressing-gown which he was wearing. I washolding his legs while Lord Linchmere was endeavouring to relight thelamp, when there came the pattering of many feet in the passage, and thebutler and two footmen, who had been alarmed by the cries, rushed intothe room. With their aid we had no further difficulty in securing ourprisoner, who lay foaming and glaring upon the ground. One glance at hisface was enough to prove that he was a dangerous maniac, while theshort, heavy hammer which lay beside the bed showed how murderous hadbeen his intentions.
“Do not use any violence!” said Lord Linchmere, as we raised thestruggling man to his feet. “He will have a period of stupor after thisexcitement. I believe that it is coming on already.” As he spoke theconvulsions became less violent, and the madman’s head fell forward uponhis breast, as if he were overcome by sleep. We led him down the passageand stretched him upon his own bed, where he lay unconscious, breathingheavily.
“Two of you will watch him,” said Lord Linchmere. “And now, Dr.Hamilton, if you will return with me to my room, I will give you theexplanation which my horror of scandal has perhaps caused me to delaytoo long. Come what may, you will never have cause to regret your sharein this night’s work.
“The case may be made clear in a very few words,” he continued, when wewere alone. “My poor brother-in-law is one of the best fellows uponearth, a loving husband and an estimable father, but he comes from astock which is deeply tainted with insanity. He has more than once hadhomicidal outbreaks, which are the more painful because his inclinationis always to attack the very person to whom he is most attached. His sonwas sent away to school to avoid this danger, and then came an attemptupon my sister, his wife, from which she escaped with injuries that youmay have observed when you met her in London. You understand that heknows nothing of the matter when he is in his sound senses, and wouldridicule the suggestion that he could under any circumstances injurethose whom he loves so dearly. It is often, as you know, acharacteristic of such maladies that it is absolutely impossible toconvince the man who suffers from them of their existence.
“Our great object was, of course, to get him under restraint before hecould stain his hands with blood, but the matter was full of difficulty.He is a recluse in his habits, and would not see any medical man.Besides, it was necessary for our purpose that the medical man shouldconvince himself of his insanity; and he is sane as you or I, save onthese very rare occasions. But, fortunately, before he has these attackshe always shows certain premonitory symptoms, which are providentialdanger-signals, warning us to be upon our guard. The chief of these isthat nervous contortion of the forehead which you must have observed.This is a phenomenon which always appears from three to four days beforehis attacks of frenzy. The moment it showed itself his wife came intotown on some pretext, and took refuge in my house in Brook Street.
“It remained for me to convince a medical man of Sir Thomas’s insanity,without which it was impossible to put him where he could do no harm.The first problem was how to get a medical man into his house. Ibethought me of his interest in beetles, and his love for any one whoshared his tastes. I advertised, therefore, and was fortunate enough tofind in you the very man I wanted. A stout companion was necessary, forI knew that the lunacy could only be proved by a murderous assault, andI had every reason to believe that that assault would be made uponmyself, since he had the warmest regard for me in his moments of sanity.I think your intelligence will supply all the rest. I did not know thatthe attack would come by night, but I thought it very probable, for thecrises of such cases usually do occur in the early hours of the morning.I am a very nervous man myself, but I saw no other way in which I couldremove this terrible danger from my sister’s life. I need not ask youwhether you are willing to sign the lunacy papers.”
“Undoubtedly. But _two_ signatures are necessary.”
“You forget that I am myself a holder of a medical degree. I have thepapers on a side-table here, so if you will b
e good enough to sign themnow, we can have the patient removed in the morning.”
* * * * *
So that was my visit to Sir Thomas Rossiter, the famous beetle-hunter,and that was also my first step upon the ladder of success, for LadyRossiter and Lord Linchmere have proved to be staunch friends, and theyhave never forgotten my association with them in the time of their need.Sir Thomas is out and said to be cured, but I still think that if Ispent another night at Delamere Court, I should be inclined to lock mydoor upon the inside.
THE MAN WITH THE WATCHES
There are many who will still bear in mind the singular circumstanceswhich, under the heading of the Rugby Mystery, filled many columns ofthe daily Press in the spring of the year 1892. Coming as it did at aperiod of exceptional dulness, it attracted perhaps rather moreattention than it deserved, but it offered to the public that mixture ofthe whimsical and the tragic which is most stimulating to the popularimagination. Interest drooped, however, when, after weeks of fruitlessinvestigation, it was found that no final explanation of the facts wasforthcoming, and the tragedy seemed from that time to the present tohave finally taken its place in the dark catalogue of inexplicable andunexpiated crimes. A recent communication (the authenticity of whichappears to be above question) has, however, thrown some new and clearlight upon the matter. Before laying it before the public it would be aswell, perhaps, that I should refresh their memories as to the singularfacts upon which this commentary is founded. These facts were briefly asfollows:—
At five o’clock on the evening of the 18th of March in the year alreadymentioned a train left Euston Station for Manchester. It was a rainy,squally day, which grew wilder as it progressed, so it was by no meansthe weather in which any one would travel who was not driven to do so bynecessity. The train, however, is a favourite one among Manchesterbusiness men who are returning from town, for it does the journey infour hours and twenty minutes, with only three stoppages upon the way.In spite of the inclement evening it was, therefore, fairly well filledupon the occasion of which I speak. The guard of the train was a triedservant of the company—a man who had worked for twenty-two years withoutblemish or complaint. His name was John Palmer.
The station clock was upon the stroke of five, and the guard was aboutto give the customary signal to the engine-driver when he observed twobelated passengers hurrying down the platform. The one was anexceptionally tall man, dressed in a long black overcoat with Astrakhancollar and cuffs. I have already said that the evening was an inclementone, and the tall traveller had the high, warm collar turned up toprotect his throat against the bitter March wind. He appeared, as far asthe guard could judge by so hurried an inspection, to be a man betweenfifty and sixty years of age, who had retained a good deal of the vigourand activity of his youth. In one hand he carried a brown leatherGladstone bag. His companion was a lady, tall and erect, walking with avigorous step which outpaced the gentleman beside her. She wore a long,fawn-coloured dust-cloak, a black, close-fitting toque, and a dark veilwhich concealed the greater part of her face. The two might very wellhave passed as father and daughter. They walked swiftly down the line ofcarriages, glancing in at the windows, until the guard, John Palmer,overtook them.
“Now, then, sir, look sharp, the train is going,” said he.