“Mr. Carriston,” I said decidedly, “let me tell you in the plainest words that your cousin is at present as fully in possession of his wits as you are. Dr. Daley, whoever he may be, could sign no certificate, and in our day no asylum would dare to keep Mr. Carriston within its walls.”
An unpleasant sinister look crossed my listener’s face, but his voice still remained bland and suave. “I am sorry to differ from you, Dr. Brand,” he said, “but I know him better than you do. I have seen him as you have never yet seen him. Only last night he came to me in a frantic state. I expected every moment he would make a murderous attack on me.”
“Perhaps he fancied he had some reasons for anger,” I said.
Ralph Carriston looked at me with those cold eyes of which his cousin had spoken. “If the boy has succeeded in converting you to any of his delusions I can only say that doctors are more credulous than I fancied. But the question is not worth arguing. You decline to assist me, so I must do without you. Good-morning, Dr. Brand.”
He left the room as gracefully as he had entered it. I remained in a state of doubt. It was curious that Ralph Carriston turned out to be the man whom I had met in the train; but the evidence offered by the coincidence was not enough to convict him of the crime of endeavoring to drive his cousin mad by such a far-fetched stratagem as the inveigling away of Madeline Rowan. Besides, even in wishing to prove Charles Carriston mad he had much to say on his side. Supposing him to be innocent of having abducted Madeline, Carriston’s violent behavior on the preceding evening must have seemed very much like insanity. In spite of the aversion with which Ralph Carriston inspired me, I scarcely knew which side to believe.
Carriston still slept; so when I went out on my afternoon rounds I left a note, begging him to remain in the house until my return. Then I found him up, dressed, and looking much more like himself. When I entered, dinner was on the table; so not until that meal was over could we talk unrestrainedly upon the subject which was uppermost in both our minds.
As soon as we were alone I turned toward my guest. “And now,” I said, “we must settle what to do. There seems to me to be but one course open. You have plenty of money, so your best plan is to engage skilled police assistance. Young ladies can’t be spirited away like this without leaving a trace.”
To my surprise Carriston flatly objected to this course. “No,” he said, “I shall not go to the police. The man who took her away has placed her where no police can find her. I must find her myself.”
“Find her yourself! Why, it may be months, years, before you do that! Good heavens, Carriston! She may be murdered, or worse—”