Traveler by Dennis Green

Author:Dennis Green [Green, Dennis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller
ISBN: 9780989612968
Publisher: Mbedzi Publishing
Published: 2016-06-10T22:00:00+00:00

Interlude

“Mr. Locke, thank you for coming. I’m Dr. Poole.”

The doctor was a washed-out looking man of late middle age. He wore a dark frock coat, frayed at the sleeves, in the way of a man who spent many hours writing. A cravat that had once been white was knotted loosely around his grimy, starched collar.

The doctor pushed a thatch of gray hair the consistency of straw from his eyes, and peered tiredly up at Robert Locke. He extended a hand, which Locke took.

“I still don’t understand why I am here, Doctor,” Locke began.

Dr. Poole silenced him, holding up the hand Locke had just released.

“I know. That is why I am so grateful you agreed to come. Please, sit.”

Locke took the lone seat in the cluttered office.

“What do you know about our facility, Mr. Locke?” Poole asked.

Locke shifted in his seat. “Er, Bethlehem Royal Hospital is the most famous of its kind,” he said uncertainly.

“It’s all right, sir,” Poole interrupted. “We use the name just like everyone else does.”

“Bedlam.”

Poole smiled. “We no longer charge the public a penny to come in and poke sticks at the lunatics, but the name is still with us. However, I didn’t ask you to come here to discuss the history of Bedlam.”

“Why am I here, then?”

Poole paused, a pensive look on his face.

“One of our patients has asked to see you.”

“One of your patients? I know no one who…lives here.”

“Actually, that doesn’t surprise me,” Poole replied. “But since you did come, would you indulge me for a few minutes?”

Locke pulled his watch from the pocket of his waistcoat. “I have an hour.”

“That should give us more than enough time.” Poole stood. “Please come with me.”

Locke followed the doctor out of the office and through a set of swinging doors past an open lounge where a number of Bedlam patients sat in silence, staring blankly at the two men as they walked past. On the other side of the lounge, a beefy young man at a desk sat reading a copy of the Daily Telegraph. He looked up at the two as they approached.

“Jeremy.” Poole nodded at the young man. “Just going to see Miss Price.”

Jeremy went back to his paper. Locke followed Poole through another set of swinging doors, and down a narrow corridor. The hallway was dim, lit only by a handful of gas lamps in sconces. A row of iron-barred doors lined each side of the hall.

“Please don’t think poorly of us, Mr. Locke,” Poole said. “As our funds allow, we are remodeling our rooms to make them more pleasant for those being treated here. But this is one of the wings that have yet to be refurbished. It’s where we keep our patients who are the most…”

“Dangerous?” Locke asked.

“Deluded,” finished Poole. He stopped in front of one of the cells. “Here we are.”

The cell was bare, except for a cot with a sheet and thin blanket. A woman sat on the bed. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, and she rested her chin on them, arms encircling her pale legs.

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