I was informed that upon his return to London, the patient would be under your close supervision. I have nothing but the highest respect for your medical knowledge, as I’m sure you are aware. However, I feel it incumbent upon me to tell you that in spite of the progress the patient made while in my care, I do not feel that he is at all ready to resume his normal routine. Indeed, I am convinced that under certain circumstances, he might prove quite dangerous.
I trust that I have not given offense by offering this warning and that you will take this note in the spirit in which it is intended.
Sincerely,
J. Renwick
Cresswell Manor
“No offense taken, Renwick. I just wish you had sent me a telegram yesterday instead of using the post to warn me that the devil has escaped. I could have used the extra time, damn you.”
Norcott put on his hat, pulled on his gloves and checked his pocket watch. Plenty of time to make it to the station. He took one last look around the bedroom to make certain that he had not left anything of value behind. His medical instruments and supply of drugs were his most important possessions. They were all safely stowed in the satchel. With the tools of his profession he could make a living somewhere other than London should it prove necessary.
Satisfied that he had packed everything he could reasonably carry, he closed and locked the trunk and hauled it off the bed. He hoisted the satchel with his free hand and went out the door.
He could feel his pulse pounding now. He wasn’t accustomed to so much exertion, he thought. He labored to carry the heavy trunk and satchel down the stairs. But he knew it was not just the physical effort that was affecting him. His nerves were jangling wildly. He had to get out of the house as quickly as possible.
If only Renwick had sent a telegram yesterday instead of a letter.
If only I had gone to the authorities instead of agreeing to make arrangements for the bastard to be incarcerated at an asylum.
He consoled himself with the thought that he’d made the only choice he could under the circumstances. The patient’s mother would have protected her precious son from the police. The scandal would have been unbearable for her. Rumors of insanity in the bloodline would have guaranteed that her son never made a respectable marriage. And Norcott knew that his own career as a doctor to the elite of Society would have been ruined.
The chances that the bastard would have been taken up on murder charges were almost nonexistent. Better to have him locked up at Cresswell Manor, Norcott thought. Or so he had told himself at the time.
If only he had let the devil die of his wounds.
He reached the foot of the stairs, went past the closed door of his surgery and paused a moment to catch his breath. He set the satchel down and tried to fumble the key out of his coat pocket so that he could lock the door behind him. His state of near panic made things even more complicated.
He had just got the key in his hand when he heard the door of the surgery open behind him.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Dr. Norcott,” the patient said. “I know that as a modern-thinking man of medicine you’ll be thrilled to learn of my astonishing progress.”
“No,” Norcott whispered.“No.”
He dropped the trunk and started to turn around. Simultaneously, he opened his mouth to scream for help, but it was too late. The cold blade of one of his own scalpels sliced across his throat.
He barely had time to realize that the patient was wearing one of the leather aprons from the surgery. It was now spattered with fresh blood.
My blood, Norcott thought.
And then he knew no more.
Twenty-four
Mr. Stanbridge suggested that I let you all view the limited evidence we have collected from the murder scenes,” Logan said. “I agreed because in my experience, there is sometimes a great deal to be said for gaining a fresh perspective—in this case a number of fresh perspectives.” He looked at Declan Garraway. “Yours as well, sir. Thank you for coming today.”
“I will be happy to assist in any way I can,” Declan said. He tugged uneasily at his tie and glanced at Benedict. “But I am by no means an authority in such matters. I had the privilege of studying under Dr. Edward Benson, who is a noted authority in the field of psychology, and I have a great personal interest in the criminal mind, but that is the sum total of my credentials. The science of explaining and predicting human behavior is still very much in its infancy.”
“It is your academic background and wide reading in the field that make your opinion so valuable,” Amity said. “In any event, the more observations, the better, as the inspector just observed.”
They were gathered in Penny’s study. Inspector Logan had arrived earlier with a small metal box that now stood open on the desk. Penny, Amity, Benedict, Logan and Declan were gathered around the desk.
Amity had been forced to be quite firm when it came to the issue of inviting Declan. Benedict had not been at all keen on the notion until she had reminded him that Declan possessed some training in the modern theories of psychology. Benedict had reluctantly relented, but he was not going out of his way to conceal his disapproval of Declan.
For his part, Declan was clearly uneasy about Benedict. The two were wary of each other, but Amity could tell that both were intrigued by the possibility of learning something new from the evidence.
“I must warn you that a number of men from the Yard have viewed these objects and come to no useful conclusions,” Logan said.
