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"Just give me his description," said the sergeant; "we don't want madmen rambling about a quiet little place like Wimbledon. The sooner we spot the old gentleman the better. He seems to be shaping himself for a strait jacket."
"A quiet five minutes with him," replied Gerald viciously, as he clenched his fist, "would, I think, result in his being one of the sanest men in the country. I shouldn't forget in the interview that he tried to murder me."
"You don't want to take the law into your own hands. That's what we are around for. Now, give me his description."
Gerald gave it. Then the sergeant said:
"Your own name and address."
Gerald gave them.
While the sergeant had been eliciting these particulars, and writing an account of the affair, his men had searched the house from top to bottom, and reported absolute emptiness.
"Now I think we have done here. Better let us take the key," said the sergeant; "we'll go over the place again to-morrow. If he's as mad as you say he is, he's likely to come back. We may be able to clap hands on him if we keep watch."
The street door was locked, and the four men made their way to the high road.
"I would give something for a drink of brandy," said Gerald.
"I fear you are not in such dire distress as to warrant my knocking up a licensed victualer," replied the sergeant. "How would a cup of hot cocoa fit you? There's a stall at the corner."
Gerald sampled it, and found it grateful and comforting.
"Now, about sleeping. Will you come on to the station? We can give you a pitch there on a rug till the morning."
Gerald thanked them and walked to the police station. The next morning he was up betimes, and caught an early train back to London.
His astonished landlady let him in, and opined with a shaking head that there was only one end for young men who stopped out all night.
Gerald did not want to hear what the termination was, but made his way up-stairs.
In his own room he lay on his bed and slept. He had not found the bench at the police station of a soporific kind.
After the excitement of the preceding evening, he needed sleep, and he took his fill of it.
He did not awake till eleven o'clock; then he had breakfast, and mapped out his plans for the day.
He rehea.r.s.ed his coming interview with the dentist--he did not suppose it would matter being an hour or so late--what he should say, what he should do, and then went out.
His landlady sarcastically inquired as he pa.s.sed whether he thought he should sleep at home that night, and he answered by banging the door.
He made his way to Finsbury Circus, and entered the building in which the dentist had rooms. Sawyer opened the door.
"Is Mr. Lennox in?"
"Yessir; will you come inside? What name shall I say, sir?"
"Brown--John Brown."
Then Gerald sat down and waited while the boy took his name in to his employer.
"Am I going to draw a prize or a blank," he muttered. "Am I coming out of this interview with the notes in sight, or failure?"
His interview with the dentist told him.
CHAPTER x.x.x
AT THE DENTIST'S
The dentist himself was left--the last time he was referred to in this chronicle--facing Sawyer and two policemen.
The sight of the policemen caused him to clutch at the door frame for support. He thought the moment of his arrest had come, and his knees seemed to take on a desire to figure as castanets.
The two men touched their caps and did not attempt to enter.
That surprised the dentist. It dawned on him that a salute was not the usual preliminary to an arrest.
One of the men had a note-book in his hand. He spoke:
"Sorry to intrude, sir, but there's a fete on at the Crystal Palace for the police orphanage. Your name's down on the books as subscribing something last year, and we thought we'd just ask if you'd be so kind as to remember the poor orphans again."
What a feeling, what an intense feeling of relief came over him!
Relief! He almost laughed, the tension for a minute had been so great.
"What did I give last year?" he inquired, in as natural a voice as he could a.s.sume.
"Five s.h.i.+llings, sir."
"Then here's the same again. That's all right."
The men thanked him and withdrew. The dentist closed the door and almost sobbed.
Then he changed his mind about the registered letter. Opening the door, he entered the outer room, and took it from Sawyer.
"I'll see to this," he said.
That police visit seemed to have roused some courage in him--it was an element in his nature that needed a lot of rousing.
Why should he be afraid of every shadow? Where was the need for it?
Unless he betrayed himself--and then he remembered the visit of the man yesterday, the man who had made an appointment for eleven o'clock that day.
What could that mean? His inquiries, his reference to the American, all this seemed suspicious.