“He had a wonderful constitution,” he said slowly—“a constitution of iron. In ordinary circumstances I cannot bring myself to think that he could suddenly and completely have lost his reason. But supposing he had received some severe shock, such as a railway accident, or something of that sort, why, then it would be possible, even probable, he might become a raving lunatic in a moment.”
“And would his madness be incurable?”
“If properly treated, with a knowledge of his past ailment—no,” answered Dr. Schofield; “but if he were treated just like an ordinary madman in a pauper lunatic asylum, he would probably never recover. He would become worse and worse and finally be incurable. I see two objections to accepting any theory of this sort as accounting for his disappearance,” the doctor continued, after a short pause. “In the first place the shock would have to be violent and unexpected, and this seems improbable; in the next place, he would surely have had some letter or something about him which would have led to his identification!”
“If the shock were the result of foul play, these would be destroyed,” I suggested.
“Undoubtedly; but whence the foul play? Hart is known to have had only a few pounds with him when he left.”
“Perhaps he had something in his keeping more valuable than money,” I remarked.
“What?”
“A secret.”
“Have you any grounds for such a belief?” the doctor asked curiously.
I hesitated. In my own mind I believed that I had; but for the present, at any rate, this was best kept to myself. I answered quite truthfully, however.