River of Darkness

'We think it's the same man.'

Chief Superintendent Sampson had responded with incredulity. 'Now look here, Madden, you've got a gypsy who hanged himself in police custody. That sounds like a pretty fair admission of guilt to me. And where's the connection with the Highfield murders? Granted a woman had her throat cut in each case. But the man who killed those people at Melling Lodge also robbed the house. We know that. The stuff taken from the farmhouse was lifted by the gypsy. You can't have it both ways.'

'The Bentham case was reported in the newspapers,'

Sinclair interjected. 'I believe our man might have read about the robbery and decided to do the same at Melling Lodge. I still think he was trying to mislead us.'

'You think. You believe.' Sampson scratched his head.

'The trouble with this inquiry is it's all guesswork.'

'Nevertheless, we have to consider the possibility that these two cases are linked.' The chief inspector was insistent. 'And, if they prove to be, the implication is serious. Even chilling. It means we have a man committing murders, seemingly at random, for motives which are a mystery to us. I repeat, it may be necessary to look at fresh ways of approaching this investigation.'

Watching Bennett's face, Madden couldn't gauge his reaction. The deputy assistant commissioner listened without comment.

The address Madden had been given was that of a handsome Victorian house in Bloomsbury Square with a brass plate beside the door on which the words 'British Psycho-Analytical Society' were engraved. A receptionist was seated at a desk in the otherwise bare entrance hall.

'I'm afraid you're a little late for Dr Weiss's address,' she told Madden. 'It must be almost over by now.'

He explained his presence.

'Dr Blackwell? Isn't she the fair-haired lady? You can wait for her down here if you like, or you could go up.' She pointed to the stairway behind her. 'Just slip in quietly, no one will mind.'

Madden went up a flight of carpeted stairs lined with portraits of solemn-looking men in formal attire.

When he reached the first floor he heard a voice coming from behind a closed door. He opened it quietly and found himself looking into a large room where perhaps forty people were seated in rows of chairs. Facing them was a short, dark-haired man who stood behind a table carpeted in green felt on which a jug of water and a glass rested beside a pile of notes.

He was addressing the gathering.

'… but since the issue of abnormality has been raised, may I say that I believe — and here I am quoting Professor Freud again — that the impulses of sexual life are among those which, even normally, are the least controlled by the higher functions of the mind. Generally speaking, we know that anyone who is abnormal mentally is abnormal in his sexual life.

What is perhaps more interesting is that people whose behaviour in other respects corresponds to the norm can, under the tyranny of the sexual instinct, lose the capacity to direct or control their lives.'

Madden saw Helen's fair head in the second row of chairs. There were some empty seats at the back of the room and he took one.

"… something you said earlier. Does that mean you would sanction perversions?" A middle-aged man in the front row had risen to ask a question. Madden had missed the first part of it. 'More generally, it does seem to me and to others outside the profession that everything in the world of psychiatry revolves around sex. Or perhaps I've misunderstood you, Dr Weiss?'

'It is more likely that I have misled you.' The speaker was smiling. 'My English is not as fluent as I would wish.' To Madden it seemed that he was fully at home in the language, although he spoke with a strong accent. 'But let me say first that, speaking as a psychiatrist, I would not normally use the word "perversion" as a term of reproach in the sexual sphere. To put it bluntly, most of us enjoy some degree of "perversion" from the norm.'

An embarrassed ripple of laughter came from the audience. At that moment Helen Blackwell looked over her shoulder and her eyes met Madden's. His heartbeat quickened. For a moment her face seemed to register surprise. Then she smiled.

'However' — Dr Weiss leaned forward, resting his hands on the table — 'on the more general question, while I would not agree that "everything" in our work has to do with sex, I cannot deny the central position occupied by this most imperious of instincts. Let me be plain. I regard human sexuality as the single most important force in our lives, both as individuals and as members of society. Consider only how it lies at the very root of our capacity to love human beings other than ourselves. Truly, the seed of our happiness.

'But the tale does not end there, sad to say, and this is evident from much of the work being done in my profession. The sexual instinct flows like a river through our lives, and if, for many, it is a broad sunlit stream, for others it can be a source of pain and anguish. A river of darkness. Aphrodite appears to us in many aspects, some of them strange and terrible.

We should regard her with awe.

'In this connection, and to answer more fully your earlier question, I cannot do better than draw your attention once more to the writings of Professor Freud, whose work has figured so largely in our discussion this evening. As my old teacher has observed, even the most repulsive sexual acts can be transformed by the human mind into idealized creations. I will close with a quotation from Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality, freely translated: "The omnipotence of love is never more strongly proved than in aberrations such as these.

The highest and lowest are always closest to each other in the realm of sexuality."'

The speaker smiled at his audience and bowed. A polite round of applause broke out as he began to collect his notes from the table in front of him. There was a shuffling of feet and chairs. Madden made his way to the front. Helen awaited him, her eyes meeting his when he was still some way off and then holding them in her steady glance as he approached.

'John, dear…' She shook his hand. 'I was so afraid you wouldn't be able to come at such short notice.' As people milled about them she moved closer to him. 'I got back yesterday evening and found an invitation to this lecture waiting at the house, so I decided to take a chance and come up.'

She was wearing a dark high-waisted dress with a matching velvet toque. A fringed shawl of red silk was draped loosely about her shoulders. Her glance shifted and he became aware of a figure standing beside them.

'Franz, how lovely to see you again.'

'Helen, my dear…' Dr Weiss took her hands in his and kissed them, first one then the other. He was perhaps half a head shorter than she was and she smiled down at him.

'This is my friend John Madden.'

'Mr Madden.' Dr Weiss brought his heels together and executed a brief bow. His dark wavy hair was flecked with grey at the temples. His liquid brown eyes, crinkled at the corners by a smile, held a look of rueful intelligence.

'Inspector Madden. John works at Scotland Yard.

You must have read about those terrible murders in Highfield…'

'Indeed. Our papers carried several reports.' He looked at Madden curiously.

'I stayed with Franz and his family in Vienna before the war,' Helen told Madden. 'He and Father are old friends and I went there to study German.'

'We still miss you.' Dr Weiss regarded her fondly.

'Mina was devoured by envy at the thought that I might see you on this trip. Mina is my wife,' he explained to Madden. 'She was not alone. Jakob insists that he remembers you well and wants to know when you will return.'

Helen laughed. 'Since Jakob was only three at the time, I find that hard to believe.'

'Some memories we carry in our hearts.' Dr Weiss touched his chest.

'Dear Franz… please give them both my love, and tell them I will come back and see you all again.'