“Certainly not. I have explained my diagnosis to you.”
“If, on the other hand, you had noted any unnatural apathy of the emotions, you would have suspected dementia praecox?”
“I would have suspected it, yes.”
“Well,” Mason said moodily, still with his chin on his chest, “let’s see where that leaves us, Doctor. A man, aged seventy-two years, goes out riding with his nephew. The nephew abruptly detours him to a sanitarium. Two male nurses come out of the sanitarium and start dragging him out of the car. You appear upon the scene. You find the patient angry and, as you have expressed it, incoherent. Wouldn’t it be natural for a patient to be angry under such circumstances?”
“It depends on the circumstances.”
“But if he hadn’t been angry, you would have immediately diagnosed his condition as a lethargic symptom of mental ataxia, would you not?”
“I don’t think that’s a fair question.”
“Perhaps not,” Mason said, in the manner of one dismissing a subject. “Let’s go on with your diagnosis. You found he was angry at being dragged out of the car. Therefore, you forthwith diagnosed his case as senile dementia, did you not?”
“I did not!” Dr. Londonberry exclaimed indignantly. “I have told you what factors entered into my diagnosis. Your question is a deliberate attempt to distort my testimony.”
“Tut, tut,” Mason said. “Don’t work yourself up, Doctor. It wouldn’t do for you to get angry — let’s see, how old are you?”