Flynn’s Weekly Detective Fiction. Vol. 18, No. 3, September 18, 1926

A great blighting sorrow hovered over her life, and she sought to lift it by the strangest of ways

I

“It means everything in life to me — everything.”

Convulsively, the girl rolled her lacy handkerchief into a wet little ball. Her brown eyes were filled with unshed tears, her mouth trembling.

“You say he’s had these attacks for the last year?”

The girl nodded. The great doctor looked keenly into her exquisite face.

“Tell me everything again, quietly.”

A nurse stood hesitatingly at the door. The doctor waved her back and she promptly vanished, closing the heavy oak doors noiselessly. The doctor concentrated on the slight figure before him.

With a palpable effort at control, the girl settled back into her chair. Her small figure seemed almost childlike from the depths of its upholstered luxury.

“We live in Chicago, as I told you, doctor. You said you had heard of my husband?”

The doctor nodded encouragingly.

“You know then of his enormous business interests, of how much he has on his shoulders.”

The doctor nodded. He was making notes on a pad at his elbow.

“Doctor, you must take this case. You can’t refuse to help me, you must let me bring him to you — you must.”

The girl’s color was rising, her voice was high and hysterical.

“My dear little lady, try to be calm. Try to tell me again, quietly, everything that has happened.”

The doctor’s voice was soothing. With another tearful little smile, the girl tried to pull herself together.

“We’ve always been so close — my husband and I.”

“How long have you been married?”

The four years that she confessed to, seemed impossible. In her clinging gray gown, she seemed scarcely more than a child.

“It was just a year ago, doctor, the first time my husband came home and didn’t know me. When I kissed him as usual, he drew back, as though I were a total stranger. He told me he was a clerk in a fur store and had been sent to show me a neck-piece. Of course, I thought it was a joke and tried to fall in with it. But he kept it up, looked astounded when I asked him if he were ready for dinner — and tore out of the house.

“I was nearly frantic. It was two days before he came home. He ignored his absence, thought I was fooling when I asked him where he’d been. I didn’t know what to do. He seemed to think I was crazy when I tried to get him to see a doctor.”

Again the tears welled up in her eyes. Patiently the doctor waited.

“I went to my family doctor. He said that all we could do was to watch, if another spell came on. For six weeks my husband was his old self, loving, attentive as he always was. Then one day as we were walking along Michigan Boulevard, we passed a fur store. My husband seemed to change before my very eyes. He became a total stranger, a clerk trying to sell me a wrap that was displayed in the window.

“ ‘Isn’t it beautiful, madam?’ he said. ‘Let us take it out of the window for you, so that you can try it on.’

“I humored him. I went in the store with him, determined that he shouldn’t get out of my sight again. How to get him home was my chief thought. I managed to get the proprietor of the store aside and explain to him. I think he thought we were both mad. However, he obliged me by giving my husband an imaginary errand at my house. So I got him into a taxi and home. All the way there he treated me politely, but as a perfect stranger. Somehow I managed to lock him in a room while the butler got the doctor. For three days he raved. Then he was completely himself again, with no memory at all of those three days.”

“Interesting,” murmured the doctor. “Most interesting.”

Nervously the girl’s hands interlocked. She seemed to be keeping them from trembling by a supreme effort of will. Her great brown eyes followed the doctor’s every movement.

“To whom did you finally take him?” asked the doctor.

“I couldn’t ‘take’ him to any one. He wouldn’t go. All I could do was to consult specialists myself.” She named the two big specialists she had been to.

“Every one says that you are the only man who can help us. If you won’t take the case, I... I don’t know what to do.”

The tears seemed very close to the surface. The great doctor leaned over and patted her reassuringly.

“There, there, child, it isn’t hopeless, you know. How many of these dual personality attacks has your husband had?”

“Oh, seven or eight, doctor. Sometimes it only lasts a few hours, sometimes it’s days.”

“Is he always the same person — always a fur salesman?”

“No, doctor. Once he thought he was a cousin of mine, another time he was an automobile salesman. But nearly always it’s the fur salesman.”

“And is it the sight of furs that starts him?”

“I can’t answer that, doctor. Twice I know it was — when I was with him. But at other times he has just suddenly ceased to be himself — once when we were dining quietly at home together. Oh, it’s all so dreadful.”

Again the tears started. The doctor continued making notes on his pad.

“Can’t you explain this all to your husband, now that he is normal? Can’t you get him to come here for a quiet talk with me of his own free will?”

“Doctor, I’ll try again, if you think it best. But the last two times that I tried to get him to see a doctor, it seemed to excite him terribly, and both times it brought on another attack.”

“In that case, of course, it is best not to mention it. We can only wait for another attack.”

The girl’s face flushed with eagerness.

“Then you will take him? You will let me bring him to you?”

The doctor hesitated.

“I do not generally take cases without the consent of the patient himself, but in this case—”

“Yes, doctor?” The tear-filled eyes were hanging on his words.

“In this case, I don’t see what else I can do.”

“Oh, doctor, how can I ever thank you?”

“Just take care of yourself, little girl. That’s the best way to help me cure my patient. I refuse to take you as a patient, young lady, so remember that.”

The girl’s face broke into a tremulous smile.

“You won’t have to, doctor. Half my worries are gone already. I’m sure you can cure him. Oh, I’m sure you can!”

A nurse had glided quietly into the room. The girl rose and began to pull her wrap around her.

“You know, doctor, I may not have time to notify you the next time it happens. I may have to bring him right to you, even if it should be in the night.”

“That will be all right. The attendants are always here. Just send word that you are here and must see me at once.”

The girl seemed alive again. Her face was sparkling with hope and animation.

“Oh, I hope it will happen soon. The quicker you can see him, the sooner will he be himself again. You know, doctor, the fee doesn’t matter. We are quite able to pay — and so happy to.”

“I thank you.”

Gravely, the great specialist was bowing her out. The interview was over.

II

A limousine drew out of the traffic on Fifth Avenue and stopped in front of Dunbar’s.

There were two men on the box, a fact that was noted by the doorman and the head-salesman who happened to be looking out of the door at the moment. Needless to say, the door was opened wide for the occupant of the limousine.

She was a slight little thing, with big brown eyes and a tremulous mouth. The head-salesman decided to wait on her himself.

Madam was pleased to look at evening wraps. The name she gave was a well-known one, and she called for nothing less than the most luxurious wraps in that most luxurious store. The clerks were all attention.

“I can’t decide,” she hesitated, as she stroked the delicate fur of the house’s most expensive chinchilla. There was an imported ermine equally becoming and equally costly.

“Well, why not both?”

It was the head-salesman himself. What was a matter of fifty thousand dollars to her husband.

The lady laughed.

“It’s a birthday present from him. Of course, he said ‘an’ evening wrap. But they are both becoming, aren’t they — and so different.”

“They are ravishing on you, madam. If your husband could only see them on you—”

“That’s it,” she agreed eagerly. “Once he sees things on me, he always says take it, but I can’t ever get him to go shopping with me — he detests it.”

“Just a moment, madam.”

The head-salesman stepped away a moment. He spoke to Mr. Dunbar himself. It wasn’t every day that such expensive wraps were sold.

When he returned Mr. Dunbar came with him.

“I would be very glad to send one of my salesmen with madam, with the two wraps, for your husband to see.”

“Oh, could you?”

Her exquisite face flushed with excitement. She almost clapped her hands in childish delight.

“I’m sure he’ll take both, when he sees them on me. I’m sure of it.”

Mr. Dunbar was bowing before her.

“Of course, I do not usually do this, madam, but under the circumstances I shall be most happy to oblige your husband — and yourself. When would it be convenient to send the wraps?”

Madam thought. She consulted a dainty watch.

“How lucky. My husband is meeting me for luncheon at the house of a friend in half an hour. My car is outside. I could take the salesman right along with me and he can bring back a certified check — for both wraps, I hope.”

It was the head-salesman himself who accompanied the lady to her car. He carried the two wraps in a cardboard box.

The car drove slowly up Park Avenue. The day was glorious, the lady wholly charming, and the young salesman was thoroughly enjoying himself. There was an alluring depth to her brown eyes. The man began to wish that the drive would last for hours. She was treating him quite as an equal, and the young man found himself basking in the sunshine of her approval. He realized that it is only real aristocracy that can afford to be so simple and unpretentious.

They stopped in front of a handsome graystone house in the East Seventies.

“Wait,” she said to the footman.

“My car will take you back to the store,” she smiled at the young man as they ascended the steps together.

A butler opened the door and motioned them into a quiet drawing-room. She gave her name to the butler, who disappeared.

The salesman sat with his back to the door. He had kept the box with the furs close beside him. He did not see the great specialist enter the room, with two attendants close behind him.

“My husband, doctor,” was all the girl with the brown eyes said.

The fur salesman got to his feet, not quite understanding. Evidently this man with hand outstretched was her husband.

“How do you do, Mr. Beale?”

The man was undoubtedly addressing him. The young salesman felt himself going crimson. His eyes sought the eyes of the lovely lady most apologetically. Then he turned back to the big man whom she had addressed as “doctor.”

“You’ve misunderstood, sir. I’m not Mr. Beale. I am a salesman from Dunbar’s.”

“Glad to see you just the same,” the doctor’s hand was grasping his. “Won’t you step into my library a minute, sir?”

The young man was plainly perplexed.

“But I’m to show the coats to—”

“That’s all right.” It was the brown-eyed lady. “I’ll show them myself. Please wait with this gentleman.”

Somehow the doctor had him by the arm. Somehow the lady had picked up the box and had started for the door. The young man was crimson with embarrassment.

“Really, Mrs. Beale,” he stammered, “I’m frightfully sorry. But as a fur salesman, I’m not allowed — I mean I will have to come with you to show the furs myself.”

But two attendants had moved quietly forward, and gently but firmly the young man found himself being propelled down a dark hall. The beautiful lady was saying a few sobbing words to the doctor.

“I... I just can’t stand it, doctor. It breaks my heart to hear him.”

The unfortunate salesman’s protests were far from silent. Suddenly they ceased. The door of a padded room had closed behind him.

“Shall I go home?” The girl was anxiously searching the doctor’s face.

“Right straight home, young lady,” was all he said.

The great doctor himself escorted the lady and the box of furs to her limousine.

“I’m at the Warburton, you know, doctor; Suite 705, if you want me.” But the address she quietly spoke into the speaking tube was the Grand Central station. There she dismissed the car, paying the chauffeur ten dollars for an hour’s service.

The lady and the furs disappeared into the station and then were lost in the subway.

Chinchilla and ermine cannot be traced like jewels. To be sure the limousine had cost ten dollars, but it had been worth it. The brown-eyed lady called it a good day.