“May I ask if this is not the renowned Dr. Delcasse—the man who has restored the largest number of persons, cured and sane, to their families, of any doctor for the insane in the whole world?”
To this insinuating address from a remarkably pretty and attractive woman Dr. Delcasse, as would any other man, felt a warming of the heart, and he replied, rising politely:
“You flatter me. I am Dr. Delcasse.”
“Then,” cried Madame Vernet, taking out her handkerchief and preparing to weep, “you are the man I most desire to meet. Oh, how fortunate it is for me that you are here! I have a brother with me—a dear, good young man, but whose mind has been affected ever since a fall he had from an apricot tree some years ago. For a year I had him at Dr. Vignaud’s hospital for the insane—rightly named, for I think anyone who went there would shortly be insane. Dr. Vignaud is a charlatan of the worst description.” Dr. Delcasse smiled in a superior manner to hear himself praised and Dr. Vignaud reviled—how delicious! “I am my poor brother’s guardian,” continued Madame Vernet, producing her card, inscribed “Madame Vernet, née Brion.” “My brother’s name is Louis Brion. Ever since he was released from Dr. Vignaud’s asylum he has been much crazier than when he went in, although Dr. Vignaud declared him thoroughly cured.”
“Just like Vignaud!” remarked Dr. Delcasse, with that spirit of fraternity which sometimes distinguishes the medical profession.
“This evening,” continued Madame Vernet, throwing her most pleading and fascinating look into her eyes, “I brought my poor, dear brother out to this place to supper, thinking it would divert him. But he has been quite insane in all his actions, and just now he became violent. He took it into his head that this necklace I wear—which I may say to you confidentially is paste—is real, and is worth forty thousand francs, and that I have stolen it from his wife. The poor boy has no wife. And while I was trying to soothe him just now he suddenly broke away, nearly knocking you down as you came in, and declared he was going after the police to arrest me—me, his devoted sister!” Madame Vernet’s voice became lost in her lace handkerchief.
“I saw an unmistakable gleam of insanity in his eye as he rushed by me,” said Dr. Delcasse, promptly. “My experience, Madame, has been vast. I can tell an insane patient at a glance, and I have no hesitation in saying that the young man gave every indication to a practiced eye of being, as you say, very much unbalanced. And Vignaud said he was cured! Ha, ha!”
“But the great thing,” said Madame Vernet, with real and not pretended anxiety, “is to get him away from here without scandal, and into your sanatorium, where I wish to place him under your care. How can that be managed?”
“Nothing easier, Madame,” replied Dr. Delcasse, eager to get hold of one of Dr. Vignaud’s patients. “I am well known here—indeed, I am personally acquainted with many of our police officers. When the young man returns with the officers I shall simply, with your permission, direct them to convey him to my sanatorium—it is less than half a mile from here—and I will telephone to my assistant to have a strait-jacket, a padded cell and a cold douche ready for the unfortunate young man, and we will take care of him, never fear. When I release him, depend upon it, he will be actually cured. I am not Dr. Vignaud, I beg you to believe.”
At this moment de Meneval, with a couple of officers, was entering the garden. The police station, as he had said, was but two minutes away. Dr. Delcasse, accompanied by Madame Vernet, coolly advanced, and recognizing the officers, spoke to them civilly, saying: