A TRAGIC AFFAIR IN THE WEST END.
MAD DOCTOR WOUNDS A BURGLAR IN A SOCIETY WOMAN'S BEDROOM.
"There was an extraordinary and tragic sequel to the escape of
Dr. Thun from Norwood Asylum, particulars of which appeared in
our early edition of yesterday. This morning at four o'clock,
in answer to a telephone call, Detective-Sergeant Miller,
accompanied by another officer, went to 84, Cavendish Mansions,
a flat occupied by Mrs. Meredith, and there found and took into
custody Dr. Algernon Thun, who had escaped from Norwood Asylum.
In the room was also found a man named Hoggins, a person well
known to the police. It appears that Hoggins had effected an
entrance into Mrs. Meredith's flat, descending from the roof by
means of a rope, making his way into the premises through the
window of Mrs. Meredith's bedroom. Whilst there he was detected
by Mrs. Meredith, who would undoubtedly have been murdered had
not Dr. Thun, who, in some mysterious manner, had gained
admission to the flat, intervened. In the struggle that
followed the doctor, who is suffering from the delusion of
persecution, severely wounded the man, who is not expected to
live. He then turned his attention to the lady. Happily an old
man who works at the flat, who was sleeping on the premises at
the time, was roused by the sound of the struggle, and
succeeded in releasing the lady from the maniacal grasp of the
intruder. The wounded burglar was removed to hospital and the
lunatic was taken to the police station and was afterwards sent
under a strong guard to the asylum from whence he had escaped.
He made a rambling statement to the police to the effect that
General Foch had assisted his escape and had directed him to
the home of his persecutors."
Jean Briggerland put down the paper and laughed.
"It is nothing to snigger about," growled Briggerland savagely.
"If I didn't laugh I should do something more emotional," said the girl
coolly. "To think that that fool should go back and make the attempt
single-handed. I never imagined that."
"Faire tells me that he's not expected to live," said Mr. Briggerland.
He rubbed his bald head irritably. "I wonder if that lunatic is going
to talk?"
"What does it matter if he does?" said the girl impatiently.
"You said the other day----" he began.
"The other day it mattered, my dear father. To-day nothing matters very
much. I think we have got well out of it. I ignored all the lessons
which my textbook teaches when I entrusted work to other hands. Jaggs,"
she said softly.
"Eh?" said the father.
"I'm repeating a well-beloved name," she smiled and rose, folding her
serviette. "I am going for a long run in the country. Would you like to
come? Mordon is very enthusiastic about the new car, the bill for which,
by the way, came in this morning. Have we any money?"
"A few thousands," said her father, rubbing his chin. "Jean, we shall
have to sell something unless things brighten."
Jean's lips twitched, but she said nothing.
On her way to the open road she called at Cavendish Mansions, and was
neither surprised nor discomfited to discover that Jack Glover was
there.
"My dear," she said, warmly clasping both the girl's hands in hers, "I
was so shocked when I read the news! How terrible it must have been for
you."
Lydia was looking pale, and there were dark shadows under her eyes, but
she treated the matter cheerfully.
"I've just been trying to explain to Mr. Glover what happened.
Unfortunately, the wonderful Jaggs is not here. He knows more about it
than I, for I collapsed in the most feminine way."
"How did he get in--I mean this madman?" asked the girl.
"Through the door."
It was Jack who answered.
"It is the last way in the world a lunatic would enter a flat, isn't it?
He came in with a key, and he was brought here by somebody who struck a
match to make sure it was the right number."
"He might have struck the match himself," said Jean, "but you're so
clever that you would not say a thing like that unless you had proof."
"We found two matches in the hall outside," said Jack, "and when Dr.
Thun was searched no matches were found on him, and I have since learnt
that, like most homicidal lunatics, he had a horror of fire in any form.
The doctor to whom I have been talking is absolutely sure that he would
not have struck the match himself. Oh, by the way, Miss Briggerland,
your father met this unfortunate man. I understand he paid a visit to
the asylum a few days ago?"
"Yes, he did," she answered without hesitation. "He was talking about
him this morning. You see, father has been making a tour of the asylums.
He is writing a book about such things. Father was horrified when he
heard the man had escaped, because the doctor told him that he was a
particularly dangerous lunatic. But who would have imagined he would
have turned up here?"
Her big, sad eyes were fixed on Jack as she shook her head in wonder.
"If one had read that in a book one would never have believed it, would
one?"
"And the man Hoggins," said Jack, who did not share her wonder. "He was
by way of being an acquaintance of yours, a member of your father's
club, wasn't he?"
She knit her brows.
"I don't remember the name, but if he is a very bad character," she said
with a little smile, "I should say distinctly that he was a member of
father's club! Poor daddy, I don't think he will ever regenerate the
East End."
"I don't think he will," agreed Jack heartily. "The question is, whether
the East End will ever regenerate him."
A slow smile dawned on her face.
"How unkind!" she said, mockery in her eyes now. "I wonder why you
dislike him so. He is so very harmless, really. My dear," she turned to
the girl with a gesture of helplessness. "I am afraid that even in this
affair Mr. Glover is seeing my sinister influence!"
"You're the most un-sinister person I have ever met, Jean," laughed
Lydia, "and Mr. Glover doesn't really think all these horrid things."
"Doesn't he?" said Jean softly, and Jack saw that she was shaking with
laughter.
There was a certain deadly humour in the situation which tickled him
too, and he grinned.
"I wish to heaven you'd get married and settle down, Miss Briggerland,"
he said incautiously.
It was her chance. She shook her head, the lips drooped, the eyes again
grew moist with the pain she could call to them at will.
"I wish I could," she said in a tone a little above a whisper, "but,
Jack, I could never marry you, never!"
She left Jack Glover bereft of speech, totally incapable of arousing so
much as a moan.
Lydia, returning from escorting her visitor to the door, saw his
embarrassment and checked his impulsive explanation a little coldly.
"I--I believed you when you said it wasn't true, Mr. Glover," she said,
and there was a reproach in her tone for which she hated herself
afterwards.