The Lunatic at Large | Page 2

meretricious was orthodoxy, and which bars could really
be recommended. He chaffed, patronised, and cheered the doctor.
Patients had been scarce, had they? Well, after all, there were many
consolations. Did Twiddle say he was hard up? Welsh himself in an
even more evil case. He narrated various unfortunate transactions
connected with the turf and other pursuits, with regret, no doubt, and
yet with a fine rakish defiance of destiny. Twiddel's face cleared, and
he began to show something of the same gallant spirit. He brought out a
tall bottle with a Celtic superscription; Welsh half filled his glass,
poured in some water from a dusty decanter, and proposed the toast of
"Luck to the two most deserving sinners in London!"
The doctor was fired, he drew the same letter from his pocket, and cried,
"By Jove, Welsh, I'd almost forgotten to tell you of a lucky offer that
came this morning."
This was not strictly true, for as a matter of fact the doctor had only
hesitated to tell of this offer lest he should be shamed to a decision. But
Welsh was infectious.

"Congratulations, old man!" said his friend. "What's it all about?"
"Here's a letter from an old friend of my people's--Dr Watson, by name.
He has a very good country practice, and he offers me this job."
He handed the letter to Welsh, and then added, with a flutter of caution,
"I haven't made up my mind yet. There are drawbacks, as you'll see."
Welsh opened the letter and read:--
"DEAR TWIDDEL,--I am happy to tell you that I am at last able to put
something in your way. A gentleman in this neighbourhood, one of my
most esteemed patients, has lately suffered from a severe mental and
physical shock, followed by brain fever, and is still, I regret to say, in
an extremely unstable mental condition. I have strongly recommended
quiet and change of scene, and at my suggestion he is to be sent abroad
under the care of a medical attendant. I have now much pleasure in
offering you the post, if you would care to accept it. You will find your
patient, Mr Mandell-Essington, an extremely agreeable young man
when in possession of his proper faculties. He has large means and no
near relatives; he comes of one of the best families in the county; and
though he has, I surmise, sown his wild oats pretty freely, he was
considered of unusual promise previous to this unfortunate illness. He
is of an amiable and pleasant disposition, though at present, we fear,
inclined to suicidal tendencies. I have no particular reason to think he is
at all homicidal; still, you will see that he naturally requires most
careful watching. It is possible that you may hesitate to leave your
practice (which I trust prospers); but as the responsibility is
considerable, the fee will be proportionately generous--£500, and all
expenses paid."
("Five hundred quid!" exclaimed Welsh.)
"I would suggest a trip on the Continent. The duration and the places to
be visited will be entirely at your discretion. It is of course hardly
necessary to say that you will seek quiet localities. Trusting to hear
from you at your very earliest convenience, believe me, yours
sincerely,

TIMOTHY WATSON."
Welsh looked at his friend with the respect that prosperity naturally
excites. He smiled on him as an equal, and cried, heartily,
"Congratulations again! When do you start?"
Twiddel fidgeted uncomfortably, "I--er--well, you see--ah--I haven't
quite made up my mind yet."
"What's the matter?"
"Hang it, Welsh--er--the fact is I don't altogether like the job."
Scruples of any kind always surprised Welsh.
"Can't afford to leave the practice?" he asked with a laugh.
"That's--ah--partly the reason," replied Twiddel, uncomfortably.
"Rot, old man! There's a girl in the case. Out with it!"
"No, it isn't that. You see it's the very devil of a responsibility."
At this confession of weakness he looked guiltily at his heroic friend.
From the bottom of his heart he wished he had screwed up his courage
in private. Welsh had so little imagination.
"By Gad," exclaimed Welsh, "I'd manage a nunnery for £500!"
"I daresay you would, but a suicidal, and possibly homicidal, lunatic
isn't a nunnery."
Welsh looked at his friend with diminished respect.
"Then you are going to chuck up £500 and a free trip on the
Continent?" he said.
"Dr Watson himself admits the responsibility."

"With a--what is it?--agreeable young man?"
"Only when in possession of his proper faculties," said the doctor,
dismally.
"And an amiable disposition?"
"With suicidal tendencies, hang it!"
"I should have thought," said Welsh, with a laugh, "that they would
only matter to himself."
"But he is homicidal too--or at least it's doubtful. I want to know a little
more about that, thank you!"
"What is the man's name?"