“How advanced was his cancer?” Henry asked, taking a seat with his notebook in hand.
“Difficult to say. Not so prevalent that I’d expected his demise so quickly. In truth, it’s difficult to know how much it had spread. Sometimes the tumors grow rapidly, within a matter of weeks. But I didn’t expect that to happen in this case, given that Mr. Dunn had suffered from the disease for over two years without much change in his condition.”
“Do you know why he decided to go to the sanatorium?” Henry needed to understand his state of mind, and the nephew hadn’t been much help in that regard.
“Not precisely.” The man leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach. “I do think he was weary of feeling unwell. He seemed to want a solution which would cure him rather than merely ease his symptoms.”
Didn’t everyone? Easing symptoms was helpful, but not without healing the ailment. Unfortunately some couldn’t be healed, and cancer was a troublesome diagnosis, from what Henry knew. How terrible it would be to know there was no cure for one’s illness. “Did he try many treatment options? Was he open to…unusual ones?”
“We did what we could, but cancer remains a mystery to the medical community. I think that as time progressed, he became rather desperate.”
That did not sound good. “Desperate? What makes you say that?”
“He made his displeasure with me clear at his last appointment here. Said that given what he’d paid me, he should’ve been better by now.” Dr. Stanhope waved a hand in dismissal. “Thatisn’t unusual for a patient fighting a long-term illness and Mr. Dunn was the grumpy sort.”
“Did he pay you a significant amount?” A direct question often proved more helpful than subtlety. It might be helpful to look at Mr. Dunn’s bank records, but this was swifter.
“No.” He glanced around his modest study. “I do well enough, but I didn’t choose this profession for the financial aspect.”
Henry nodded, looking at the doctor expectantly with the hope that it would encourage him to add more. He’d already been more helpful than Mr. Dunn’s solicitor.
The doctor filled the silence. “When he mentioned the sanatorium, I didn’t say anything at first. Not until he pressed me for an opinion.”
“And?” Henry prompted as the man he paused.
Dr. Stanhope hesitated, but only for a moment. “I was honest and told him I didn’t think it was a good idea. New practices in the medical field required testing and unfortunately, the chances of his cancer ever being cured were slim. Of course, that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.”
“I don’t suppose so.” The truth could be harsh, especially when one was ill. “Do you have any other patients who have gone to that particular sanatorium?”
“No, though a few fellow physicians have mentioned it. They don't have anything good to say about the place or Dr. Thorne.”
“Oh?” If there were rumors, Henry wanted to hear them, especially after the praise Director Reynolds had been told.
“It is an expensive stay, which doesn’t come as a surprise, but it seems ridiculous to pay for the pleasure of fasting if youbelieve a poor diet has contributed to your illness. The hydropathy offered at Hollowgate Heights seems to be a fancy term for enemas. While those have their place in medicine, I don’t believe for a moment that they will cure cancer—or any other disease.”
That was logical to Henry, but if one were sick and grasping for hope, it would be tempting to try almost anything. “Are you acquainted with Dr. Thorne?”
“No.” He seemed to consider his next words carefully. “Some of my colleagues may have expressed doubt about her skills, but clearly patients have put their trust in her, given her declared success. I would expect a few physicians to resent that. She supposedly has a degree from Edinburgh, so one would think she’s well qualified.”
Supposedly. “Is there anything else you can tell me that might be helpful?” Henry asked.
The doctor straightened, considered the question briefly, then shook his head. “Not that I can think of. I only hope Mr. Dunn’s final days weren’t painful. Cancer is a terrible disease.”
Henry closed his notebook and stood. “Thank you for your time.”
“Do you think something strange is going on at that facility?”
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.” That much, Henry could promise.
Dr. Stanhope hesitated once again. “Talk among physicians I’ve spoken with suggest their success in improving patients’ health is limited. That there are more deaths than one might expect.”
“Even though many of those being admitted have serious health concerns?” Henry asked with a lifted brow.
The doctor smiled. “That’s what makes it difficult to know for certain, doesn’t it?”
“Thank you, again.” Henry departed, deciding against a hansom cab and walking for a time to sort through his impressions of the interview.
It didn’t come as a complete surprise to hear that some physicians resented the sanatorium since the place was taking their patients. But it could be one more sign that all wasnotwell, despite Miss Elmcroft’s message to Amelia.
