THE COMING AND GOING OF MR. FRANKLIN WILMOT
Both men looked up as Lady Deringham entered the room, carefully closing
the 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 most
fortunate! Something very singular has happened. You will be able to
tell 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. He
seemed surprised that his name was not familiar to me. He was quite sure
that 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 he
could not immediately remember in what connection. Suddenly it flashed
into his mind.
"Of course!" he exclaimed. "He is a famous physician--a very great
swell, goes to Court and all that!"
Lady Deringham nodded.
"He has introduced himself as a physician. He has brought this letter
from Dr. Whitlett."
Wolfenden took the note from her hand. It was written on half a sheet
of 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, to
call on an errand of this sort."
"So I thought," Lady Deringham agreed; "but Dr. Whitlett's explanation
seems 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 man
was sitting in a corner, under a palm tree. In one hand he held a
magazine, the pictures of which he seemed to be studying with the aid of
an eyeglass, the other was raised to his mouth. He was in the act of
indulging 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, I
presume?" the latter remarked at once.
Wolfenden assented.
"Yes! I am afraid that it will be a little difficult to get my father to
see you on such short notice."
"I was about to explain to Lady Deringham, before I understood that you
were in the house," Dr. Wilmot said, "that although that would be an
advantage, it is not absolutely necessary at present. I should of course
have to examine your father before giving a definite opinion as to his
case, but I can give you a very fair idea as to his condition without
seeing him at all."
Wolfenden and his mother exchanged glances.
"You must forgive us," Wolfenden commenced hesitatingly, "but really I
can scarcely understand."
"Of course not," their visitor interrupted brusquely. "My method is one
which is doubtless altogether strange to you, but if you read the
_Lancet_ or the _Medical Journal_, you would have heard a good deal
about it lately. I form my conclusions as to the mental condition of a
patient almost altogether from a close inspection of their letters, or
any work upon which they are, or have been, recently engaged. I do not
say that it is possible to do this from a single letter, but when a man
has a hobby, such as I understand Lord Deringham indulges in, and has
devoted a great deal of time to real or imaginary work in connection
with it, I am generally able, from a study of that work, to tell how
far the brain is weakened, if at all, and in what manner it can be
strengthened. This is only the crudest outline of my theory, but to be
brief, I can give you my opinion as to Lord Deringham's mental
condition, and my advice as to its maintenance, if you will place before
me the latest work upon which he has been engaged. I hope I have made
myself clear."
"Perfectly," Wolfenden answered. "It sounds very reasonable and very
interesting, but I am afraid that there are a few practical difficulties
in the way. In the first place, my father does not show his work or any
portion of it to any one. On the other hand he takes the most
extraordinary precautions to maintain absolute secrecy with regard to
it."
"That," Dr. Wilmot remarked, "is rather a bad feature of the case. It is
a difficulty which I should imagine you could get over, though. You
could easily frame some excuse to get him away from his study for a
short time and leave me there. Of course the affair is in your hands
altogether, and I am presuming that you are anxious to have an opinion
as to your father's state of health. I am not in the habit of seeking
patients," he added, a little stiffly. "I was interested in my friend
Whitlett's description of the case, and anxious to apply my theories to
it, as it happens to differ in some respects from anything I have met
with 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 to
spare."
"You had better," Wolfenden suggested, "stay here for the night in any
case. We will send you to the station, or into Cromer, as early as you
like in the morning."
"Absolutely impossible," Dr. Wilmot replied briefly. "I am staying with
friends in Cromer, and I have a consultation in town early to-morrow
morning. You must really make up your minds at once whether you wish
for my opinion or not."
"I do not think," Lady Deringham said, "that we need hesitate for a
moment about that!"
Wolfenden looked at him doubtfully. There seemed to be no possibility of
anything but advantage in accepting this offer, and yet in a sense he
was sorry that it had been made.
"In case you should attach any special importance to your father's
manuscripts," 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 the
study."
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 get
him 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 out
of his way to call here, we must make an effort."
Lady Deringham left the room.
Dr. Wilmot, whose expression of absolute impassiveness had not altered
in the least during their discussion, turned towards Wolfenden.
"Have you yourself," he said, "never seen any of your father's
manuscripts? 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 and
coast defences, and that is about all I know. My father, even when he
was an admiral on active service, took an absolutely pessimistic view of
both. You may perhaps remember this. The Lords of the Admiralty used to
consider him, I believe, the one great thorn in their sides."
Dr. Wilmot shook his head.
"I have never taken any interest in such matters," he said. "My
profession has been completely absorbing during the last ten years."
Wolfenden nodded.
"I know," he remarked, "that I used to read the newspapers and wonder
why on earth my father took such pains to try and frighten everybody.
But he is altogether changed now. He even avoids the subject, although I
am quite sure that it is his one engrossing thought. It is certain that
no one has ever given such time and concentrated energy to it before. If
only his work was the work of a sane man I could understand it being
very valuable."
"Not the least doubt about it, I should say," Dr. Wilmot replied
carelessly.
The door opened and Lady Deringham reappeared.
"I have succeeded," she said. "He is upstairs now. I will try and keep
him there for half an hour. Wolfenden, will you take Dr. Wilmot into the
study?"
Dr. Wilmot rose with quiet alacrity. Wolfenden led the way down the long
passage which led to the study. He himself was scarcely prepared for
such signs of unusual labours as confronted them both when they opened
the door. The round table in the centre of the room was piled with books
and a loose heap of papers. A special rack was hung with a collection of
maps and charts. There were nautical instruments upon the table, and
compasses, as well as writing materials, and a number of small models of
men-of-war. Mr. Blatherwick, who was sitting at the other side of the
room busy with some copying, looked up in amazement at the entrance of
Wolfenden and a stranger upon what was always considered forbidden
ground.
Wolfenden stepped forward at once to the table. A sheet of paper lay
there on which the ink was scarcely yet dry. Many others were scattered
about, almost undecipherable, with marginal notes and corrections in his
father's handwriting. He pushed some of them towards his companion.
"You can help yourself," he said. "This seems to be his most recent
work."
Dr. Wilmot seemed scarcely to hear him. He had turned the lamp up with
quick fingers, and was leaning over those freshly written pages.
Decidedly he was interested in the case. He stood quite still reading
with breathless haste--the papers seemed almost to fly through his
fingers. Wolfenden was a little puzzled. Mr. Blatherwick, who had been
watching the proceedings with blank amazement, rose and came over
towards them.
"You will excuse me, Lord Wolfenden," he said, "but if the admiral
should come back and find a stranger with you looking over his work, he
will----"
"It's all right, Blatherwick," Wolfenden interrupted, the more
impatiently since he was far from comfortable himself. "This gentleman
is a physician."
The secretary resumed his seat. Dr. Wilmot was reading with
lightning-like speed sheet after sheet, making frequent notes in a
pocket-book which he had laid on the table before him. He was so
absorbed that he did not seem to hear the sound of wheels coming up the
avenue.
Wolfenden walked to the window, and raising the curtain, looked out. He
gave vent to a little exclamation of relief as he saw a familiar dogcart
draw up at the hall door, and Dr. Whitlett's famous mare pulled steaming
on to her haunches.
"It is Dr. Whitlett," he exclaimed. "He has followed you up pretty
soon."
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 window
and looked out.
"So it is," he remarked. "I should like to see him at once for half a
minute--then I shall have finished. I wonder whether you would mind
going yourself and asking him to step this way?"
Wolfenden turned immediately to leave the room. At the door he turned
sharply round, attracted by a sudden noise and an exclamation from
Blatherwick. Dr. Wilmot had disappeared! Mr. Blatherwick was gazing at
the 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 the
room through the open casement. Fainter and fainter down the long avenue
came the sound of galloping horses. Dr. Franklin Wilmot had certainly
gone!
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. "He
has just gone off through the window like a madman!"
"Wilmot!" the doctor exclaimed. "I never knew any one of that name in my
life. The fellow's a rank impostor!"