Dr. Lang thought of the patients to whom he had tried to be just and kind. He saw that Anthony Trent was interested and since Lang liked to discuss things with men of intelligence, he spoke of many of the Deerfarm inhabitants whose names had once flared across the newspapers of the country. Trent thought he would never come to the only one in which he was interested, but did not deem wise to mention.
“One of the men I never could establish sympathetic contact with was Marcus North. I expect you have heard of him. Most of the Deerfarm people are of the poorer classes. He on the contrary was a man of fashion and wealth. Yet he killed two people.”
“Two?” Trent cried.
“His valet first and years later the night attendant in his ward. North had a room to himself, mainly because there were several in the old wing and he was well behaved. The new night attendant didn’t like North. Class hatred I imagine in its origin and North was put in the general ward. So he bided his time and strangled the night attendant.”
“Then he is mad, of course?”
“When I took charge I was told he was a paranoiac. He may be. They can be sane on all subjects but one. He spends his time in reading and sketching. He has no intimates. Yes, I suppose his is a paranoiac. There is no record of violent outbursts except in the case of the attendant he killed. He seems so sane and reasonable that a night attendant used to slip off to play poker with men off duty and leave him in charge. I found it out and dismissed the man.”
“I suppose even those fellows can be reached?”
“Do you suppose in this age when lavish spending is the rule, and every laborer has his car and radio, that an attendant is immune to bribery? Do you know what they get at Deerfarm? The men are paid forty dollars a month with no possible increase. The women get thirty-five after a year. They start at twenty-five. Attendants are on duty sixty hours a week and have one full day off each week with a fortnight vacation of full pay. Deerfarm is popular because uniform is not compulsory for males. I ask you whether or not in a group of men who earn four hundred and eighty dollars per annum there will not be some who refuse to turn down the chance to make more if there isn’t much risk. And yet I firmly believe that prison guards have many more opportunities to graft. I should like very much to believe in men as I did when I was an idealist at Saint Andrew’s, but I’m suspicious now. They’ll demand proof to know it is Saint Peter who guards the gate if ever they get up there.”
Dr. Lang, once started, rambled on, pausing only now and again to light his pipe or refill it. Trent’s expression was one of deferential interest and the exclamations that fell from his lips were admirable. But he heard no word of the Scot’s commentaries on life.
Marcus North was not dead! The belief that John Addison had lied to his wife in order to relieve her mind of the haunting fear of the paranoiac, was justified. That others had accepted this statement was perfectly reasonable. For what cause would they investigate? No doubt Jessup had informed his niece and as the news could not be unexpected why should she doubt it?
Trent’s investigation of the Addison mystery showed him clearly that the man who was responsible knew the house inside and out. Further that Addison recognized his visitor that first night and did not wish his wife or family to discover that he had lied. What, Trent wondered, must have been poor Addison’s state of mind when he found the man in his library who had threatened to kill him? Had he, perhaps, hoped to be able to reason with him, or, if that failed, to silence him for ever?
Marcus North, if Trent’s theory was correct, had broken out of Deerfarm on that October night and had reached the Addison house unseen. He could not have walked the thirty-five miles nor have taken a train. The automobile might be eliminated insofar as considering North to be its driver. Seventeen years or more had made so great a difference in automobiles that to one who had not kept up with their gradual evolution would probably be wholly at sea in undertaking to drive one. Probably North was driven there.
The problem immediately before Trent was to discover if North had made a known break. And if there was none reported against him it would mean one of two things: either that he had the backing of a Deerfarm attendant or else that Trent’s deductions were wrong. The name of North recurred in Dr. Lang’s talk.
“I wonder a man of his sort sane enough to stand out among the rest, didn’t try to escape.”
“He did,” Dr. Lang replied. “After killing the night attendant he got away. We found him twenty miles distant. That wasn’t the first time. Apparently he has some fixed idea as to his route, for he is always headed in the same direction.”
Trent knew fairly well in what direction it was. John Addison must have known, too. What obstinacy was it that made him come back year after year to this old home whose childhood memories were common to Marcus and he? Psychologists called by the name of Phobophobia that emotion which is fear of fear, or fear of being afraid. Possibly John Addison had been spurred to particularly gallant feats in the war by the same motives which made him ashamed to admit to himself that he dared not live near Deerfarm.
“The paranoiac,” Dr. Lang went on, “is the most deceiving and dangerous type of madman and the clever criminal has only to persuade a jury that he is paranoid and he will escape the gallows. I have often talked to this man North and I find it very difficult to make a decision about him. The Joseph G. Robin case should be a lesson to all alienists. Ten of our most eminent psychiatrists testified that he was insane; and when the judge complimented the jurors for disregarding this mass of expert evidence and convicting him, the New York Academy of Medicine held a mass meeting at which Jerome spoke contemptuously of him as a half-baked judge holding office through grace of Charlie Murphy. I was just as indignant as Jerome until Robin admitted he had been shamming insanity in the hope of evading conviction. I don’t wonder intelligent laymen suspect expert evidence when it can botch a case so horribly. If those experts were honest they were ignorant. If they were not ignorant — what were they? It’s a bad business, Trent, and thinking of it will put me off my drive if I’m not careful.”
The doctor paced the floor, frowning. “Thinking of North brings the two Haggertys to my mind and that scoundrelly little Dr. Gross who married Dr. Humphries’ daughter. I firmly believe they were all engaged in trying to get evidence on me. I dismissed all three, but they were reinstated. I said it was either them or me. So they let me go after my years of service.”
“Why should North bring them to your mind?” Trent demanded.
“He was in Haggerty’s ward and Gross showed a favoritism to North which was unwarranted and bad for discipline. I would have no ‘trusty’ system in Deerfarm when I was there.”
The question Trent asked seemed innocent enough, but on its answer a great deal hinged. “You mean that of all the men in Deerfarm Haggerty and this Dr. Gross alone survived your reign?”
Trent smoked a pipe or two as he pondered upon what he had just learned. By some fortunate array of circumstances, Marcus North was under the control of people inimical to Lang. These men were the venal types which the fallen head had tried to eradicate. Had North escaped but once, it might be supposed that the break had been discovered and he had been taken back. But on the second occasion there was probably collusion. It would be well to find out what information More had about these attendants. He determined to drive over to the Hillsbro House and see More.