The Shrieking Pit | Page 5

He has been here for a
fortnight or more, and I have never seen him speak to anybody, though
I have exchanged nods with him every morning. His principal
recreation seems to lie in taking long solitary walks along the coast. He
has been in the habit of going out every day, and not returning until
dinner is half over. Perhaps the hotel proprietor knows who his friends
are."
"Would you be so kind as to step downstairs and inquire? I do not wish
to leave him, but his friends should be telegraphed to at once and asked
to come and take charge of him."
"Certainly. And I'll send the telegram while I am down there."
But Colwyn returned in a few moments to say that the hotel proprietor
knew nothing of his guest. He had never stayed in the house before, and
he had booked his room by a trunk call from London. On arrival he had
filled in the registration paper in the name of James Ronald, but had left
blank the spaces for his private and business addresses. He looked such
a gentleman that the proprietor had not ventured to draw his attention to
the omissions.
"Another instance of how hotels neglect to comply with the
requirements of the Defence of the Realm Act!" exclaimed Sir Henry.
"Really, it is very awkward. I hardly know, in the circumstances, how
to act. Speaking as a medical man, I say that he should not be left alone,
but if he orders us out of his room when he recovers his senses what are
we to do? Can you suggest anything?" He shot a keen glance at his

companion.
"I should be in a better position to answer you if I knew what you
consider him to be really suffering from. I was under the impression it
was a bad case of shell-shock, but your remarks suggest that it is
something worse. May I ask, as you are a medical man, what you
consider the nature of his illness?"
Sir Henry bestowed another searching glance on the speaker. He noted,
for the first time, the keen alertness and intellectuality of the other's
face. It was a fine strong face, with a pair of luminous grey eyes, a
likeable long nose, and clean-shaven, humorous mouth--a man to trust
and depend upon.
"I hardly know what to do," said Sir Henry, after a lengthy pause,
which he had evidently devoted to considering the wisdom of acceding
to his companion's request. "This gentleman has not consulted me
professionally, and I hardly feel justified in confiding my hurried and
imperfect diagnosis of his case, without his knowledge, to a perfect
stranger. On the other hand, there are reasons why somebody should
know, if we are to help him in his weak state. Perhaps, sir, if you told
me your name----"
"Certainly: my name is Colwyn--Grant Colwyn."
"You are the famous American detective of that name?"
"You are good enough to say so."
"Why not? Who has not heard of you, and your skill in the unraveling
of crime? There are many people on both sides of the Atlantic who
regard you as a public benefactor. But I am surprised. You do not at all
resemble my idea of Colwyn."
"Why not?"
"You do not talk like an American, for one thing."

"You forget I have been over here long enough to learn the language.
Besides, I am half English."
Sir Henry laughed good-humouredly.
"That's a fair answer, Mr. Colwyn. Of course, your being Colwyn alters
the question. I have no hesitation in confiding in you. I am Sir Henry
Durwood--no doubt you have heard of me. Naturally, I have to be
careful."
Colwyn looked at his companion with renewed interest. Who had not
heard of Sir Henry Durwood, the nerve specialist whose skill had made
his name a household word amongst the most exclusive women in
England, and, incidentally, won him a knighthood? There were
professional detractors who hinted that Sir Henry had climbed into the
heaven of Harley Street and fat fees by the ladder of social influence
which a wealthy, well-born wife had provided, with no qualifications of
his own except "the best bedside manner in England" and a thorough
knowledge of the weaknesses of the feminine temperament. But his
admirers--and they were legion--declared that Sir Henry Durwood was
the only man in London who really understood how to treat the
complex nervous system of the present generation. These thoughts ran
through Colwyn's mind as he murmured that the opinion of such an
eminent specialist as Sir Henry Durwood on the case before them must
naturally outweigh his own.
"You are very good to say so." Sir Henry spoke as though the tribute
were no more than his due. "In my opinion, the symptoms