“Well, Mrs. Fentiman, I think if you’d take your husband into the room the officer will show you, that would be the best way. And we’ll send the doctor in to you when he arrives. Perhaps it would be as well that he should see his own medical man too. Whom would you like us to send for?”
“Dr. Penberthy has vetted him from time to time, I think,” put in Wimsey, suddenly. “Why not send for him?”
Parker gasped involuntarily.
“He might be able to throw some light on the symptoms,” said Wimsey, in a rigid voice.
Parker nodded.
“A good idea,” he agreed. He moved to the telephone. George smiled as his wife put her arm about his shoulder.
“Tired,” he said, “very tired. Off to bed, old girl.”
A police-constable opened the door to them, and they started through it together; George leaned heavily on Sheila; his feet dragged.
“Let’s have a look at his statement,” said Parker.
It was written in a staggering handwriting, much blotted and erased, with words left out and repeated here and there.
“I am making this statement quickly while he is asleep, because if I wait he may wake up and stop me. You will say I was moved and seduced by instigation of but what they will not understand is that he is me and I am him. I killed my grandfather by giving him digitalin. I did not remember it till I saw the name on the bottle, but they have been looking for me ever since, so I know that he must have done it. That is why they began following me about, but he is very clever and misleads them. When he is awake. We were dancing all last night and that is why he is tired. He told me to smash the bottle so that you shouldn’t find out, but they know I was the last person to see him. He is very cunning, but if you creep on him quickly now that he is asleep you will be able to bind him in chains and cast him into the pit and then I shall be able to sleep.
GEORGE FENTIMAN.”
“Off his head, poor devil,” said Parker. “We can’t pay much attention to this. What did he say to you, superintendent?”
“He just came in, sir, and said ‘I’m George Fentiman and I’ve come to tell you about how I killed my grandfather.’ So I questioned him, and he rambled a good bit and then he asked for a pen and paper to make his statement. I thought he ought to be detained, and I rang up the Yard, sir.”
“Quite right,” said Parker.
The door opened and Sheila came out.
“He’s fallen asleep,” she said. “It’s the old trouble come back again. He thinks he’s the devil, you know. He’s been like that twice before,” she added, simply. “I’ll go back to him till the doctors come.”
The police-surgeon arrived first and went in; then, after a wait of a quarter of an hour, Penberthy came. He looked worried, and greeted Wimsey abruptly. Then he, too, went into the inner room. The others stood vaguely about, and were presently joined by Robert Fentiman, whom an urgent summons had traced to a friend’s house.
Presently the two doctors came out again.
“Nervous shock with well-marked delusions,” said the police-surgeon, briefly. “Probably be all right tomorrow. Sleeping it off now. Been this way before, I understand. Just so. A hundred years ago they’d have called it diabolic possession, but we know better.”
“Yes,” said Parker, “but do you think he is under a delusion in saying he murdered his grandfather? Or did he actually murder him under the influence of this diabolical delusion? That’s the point.”
“Can’t say just at present. Might be the one — might be the other. Much better wait till the attack passes off. You’ll be able to find out better then.”
“You don’t think he’s permanently — insane, then?” demanded Robert, with brusque anxiety.
“No — I don’t. I think it’s what you’d call a nerve-storm. That is your opinion, too, I believe?” he added, turning to Penberthy.
“Yes; that is my opinion.”
“And what do you think about this delusion, Dr. Penberthy?” went on Parker. “Did he do this insane act?”
“He certainly thinks he did it,” said Penberthy; “I couldn’t possibly say for certain whether he has any foundation for the belief. From time to time he undoubtedly gets these fits of thinking that the devil has taken hold of him, and of course it’s hard to say what a man might or might not do under the influence of such a delusion.”
He avoided Robert’s distressed eyes, and addressed himself exclusively to Parker.
“It seems to me,” said Wimsey, “if you’ll excuse me pushin’ my opinion forward and all that — it seems to me that’s a question of fact that can be settled without reference to Fentiman and his delusions. There’s only the one occasion on which the pill could have been administered — would it have produced the effect that was produced at that particular time, or wouldn’t it? If it couldn’t take effect at 8 o’clock, then it couldn’t, and there’s an end of it.”
He kept his eyes fixed on Penberthy, and saw him pass his tongue over his dry lips before speaking.
“I can’t answer that off-hand,” he said.
“The pill might have been introduced into General Fentiman’s stock of pills at some other time,” suggested Parker.
“So it might,” agreed Penberthy.
“Had it the same shape and appearance as his ordinary pills?” demanded Wimsey, again fixing his eyes on Penberthy.
“Not having seen the pill in question, I can’t say,” said the latter.
“In any case,” said Wimsey, “the pill in question, which was one of Mrs. Fentiman’s, I understand, had strychnine in it as well as digitalin. The analysis of the stomach would no doubt have revealed strychnine if present. That can be looked into.”
“Of course,” said the police-surgeon. “Well, gentlemen, I don’t think we can do much more to-night. I have written out a prescription for the patient, with Dr. Penberthy’s entire agreement”—he bowed; Penberthy bowed—“I will have it made up, and you will no doubt see that it is given to him. I shall be here in the morning.”
He looked interrogatively at Parker, who nodded.
“Thank you, doctor; we will ask you for a further report to-morrow morning. You’ll see that Mrs. Fentiman is properly looked after, Superintendent. If you wish to stay here and look after your brother and Mrs. Fentiman, Major, of course you may, and the Superintendent will make you as comfortable as he can.”
Wimsey took Penberthy by the arm.
“Come round to the Club with me for a moment, Penberthy,” he said. “I want to have a word with you.”
Chapter XXII
The Cards on the Table
There was nobody in the library at the Bellona Club; there never is. Wimsey led Penberthy into the farthest bay and sent a waiter for two double whiskies.
“Here’s luck!” he said.
“Good luck,” replied Penberthy. “What is it?”
“Look here,” said Wimsey. “You’ve been a soldier. I think you’re a decent fellow. You’ve seen George Fentiman. It’s a pity, isn’t it?”
“What about it?”
“If George Fentiman hadn’t turned up with that delusion of his,” said Wimsey, “you would have been arrested for the murder this evening. Now the point is this. When you are arrested, nothing, as things are, can prevent Miss Dorland’s being arrested on the same charge. She’s quite a decent girl, and you haven’t treated her any too well, have you? Don’t you think you might make things right for her by telling the truth straight away?”