Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 274 by Maxwel l Grant

Author:Maxwel,l Grant
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf

CHAPTER XII

DESPITE his much-expressed opinion that insanity was incurable, Dr. Uther Marsh was quite willing to accept all types of patients at Beaverwood provided they could pay their way. He classified some as

"border-line cases" and Cranston fell into this category, partly because he had not been an inmate of

another institution and partly because Sayre was sending him on a trial basis.

It all amounted to this: Dr. Marsh had made it his business to prove that every other expert was wrong. If insanity could be cured it was only because it wasn't insanity in the first place. As master of his own little world, Marsh ran everything on that principle and allowed no argument.

What a little world it was!

Spread like a starfish, the Beaverwood building contained long, gloomy corridors, with lighting fixtures feeble and far between. Through a labyrinth of passages, Cranston was conducted to a wing reserved for patients of his type and every one of those passages looked alike. Doors with wicket windows were on either side and the rule applied even to the office where Cranston was halted for a brief interview with Dr. Marsh.

The office itself seemed the product of a monomania. Behind a large desk sat Dr. Marsh, backed by a dull mass of gloom, since his lights were purposely turned to throw their full power on the patient's face.

Against that background, Marsh's face formed a gray outline, the effect created by his grizzled beard. His eyes resembled deep sockets; his lips, a heavy pencil line that never deviated. There were moments, however, when Marsh leaned forward far enough for his eyes to reveal a glare and on those occasions his lips seemed to magnify with livid effect.

All about Marsh were other shapes that stood like silent ghosts. They were special machines that Marsh used when examining or treating his patients as Cranston was soon to learn. For the present, however, Cranston showed complete disinterest in Marsh and his paraphernalia. What interested Cranston most was the box that contained the beautiful butterfly, given him by Dr. Sayre. Only at moments did Cranston look up; then only to cackle a happy laugh as though to gain approval from an imaginary audience.

Flanking Cranston were two husky men who had brought him from New York, but he was ignoring them along with Dr. Marsh.

Cranston's conductors were giving Sayre's detailed report and Dr. Marsh made notes while he listened.

Occasionally he put sharp queries that were promptly answered. Marsh learned for instance that Cranston's mental whirls were intermittent, though each was worse than the one before. Recently, he had shown a sudden improvement; hence Sayre had no longer kept him under close observation. As a result, Sayre was unable to report where Cranston had been during the past several days.

It might have amazed Marsh to know that this new patient was a house guest fresh from Gray Towers except for a brief stop in New York; that is, if Marsh would have been amazed at anything. Instead, the bearded doctor seemed to take Cranston's case as a matter of course.

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