‘Well, have you found him? Don’t sit there dozing, gentlemen! You may have had a sleepless night, but I have still to wake from the nightmare.’ With this humourless shaft, Dr Mellinger flashed a mordant eye into the rhododendronlined drive, as if hoping to catch a sudden glimpse of the vanished patient. ‘Dr Redpath, your report, please.’
‘The search is still continuing, Director.’ Dr Redpath, the registrar of the asylum, was nominally in charge of security. ‘We have examined the entire grounds, dormitory blocks, garages and outbuildings — even the patients are taking part — but every trace of Hinton has vanished. Reluctantly, I am afraid there is no alternative but to inform the police.’
‘Nonsense.’ Dr Mellinger took his seat behind the desk, arms outspread and eyes roving the bare top for a minuscule replica of the vanished patient. ‘Don’t be disheartened by your inability to discover him, Doctor. Until the search is complete we would be wasting the police’s time to ask for their help.’
‘Of course, Director,’ Dr Normand rejoined smoothly, ‘but on the other hand, as we have now proved that the missing patient is not within the boundaries of Green Hill, we can conclude, ergo, that he is outside them. In such an event is it perhaps rather a case of us helping the police?’
‘Not at all, my dear Normand,’ Dr Mellinger replied pleasantly. As he mentally elaborated his answer, he realized that he had never trusted or liked his deputy; given the first opportunity he would replace him, most conveniently with Redpath, whose blunders in the ‘Hinton affair’, as it could be designated, would place him for ever squarely below the Director’s thumb. ‘If there were any evidence of the means by which Hinton made his escape — knotted sheets or footprints in the flower-beds — we could assume that he was no longer within these walls. But no such evidence has been found. For all we know — in fact, everything points inescapably to this conclusion — the patient is still within the confines of Green Hill, indeed by rights still within his cell. ‘The bars on the window were not cut, and the only way out was through the door, the keys to which remained in the possession of Dr Booth’ — he indicated the third member of the trio, a slim young man with a worried expression — ‘throughout the period between the last contact with Hinton and the discovery of his disappearance. Dr Booth, as the physician actually responsible for Hinton, you are quite certain you were the last person to visit him?’
Dr Booth nodded reluctantly. His celebrity at having discovered Hinton’s escape had long since turned sour. ‘At seven o’clock, sir, during my evening round. But the last person to see Hinton was the duty nurse half an hour later. However, as no treatment had been prescribed — the patient had been admitted for observation — the door was not unlocked. Shortly after nine o’clock I decided to visit the patient—, ‘Why?’ Dr Mellinger placed the tips of his fingers together and constructed a cathedral spire and nave. ‘This is one of the strangest aspects of the case, Doctor. Why should you have chosen, almost an hour and a half later, to leave your comfortable office on the ground floor and climb three flights of stairs merely to carry out a cursory inspection which could best be left to the duty’ staff? Your motives puzzle me, Doctor.’
‘But, Director—!’ Dr Booth was almost on his feet. ‘Surely you don’t suspect me of colluding in Hinton’s escape? I assure you—’
‘Doctor, please.’ Dr Mellinger raised a smooth white hand. ‘Nothing could be further from my mind. Perhaps I should have said: your unconscious motives.’
Again the unfortunate Booth protested: ‘Director, there were no unconscious motives. I admit I can’t remember precisely what prompted me to see Hinton, but it was some perfectly trivial reason. I hardly knew the patient.’
Dr Mellinger bent forwards across the desk. ‘That is exactly what I meant, Doctor. To be precise, you did not know Hinton at all.’ Dr Mellinger gazed at the distorted reflection of himself in the silver ink-stand. ‘Tell me, Dr Booth, how would you describe Hinton’s appearance?’
Booth hesitated. ‘Well, he was of… medium height, if I remember, with… yes, brown hair and a pale complexion. His eyes were — I should have to refresh my memory from the file, Director.’
Dr Mellinger nodded. He turned to Redpath. ‘Could you describe him, Doctor?’
‘I’m afraid not, sir. I never saw the patient.’ He gestured to the Deputy Director. ‘I believe Dr Normand interviewed him on admission.’
With an effort Dr Normand cast into his memory. ‘It was probably my assistant. If I remember, he was a man of average build with no distinguishing features. Neither short, nor tall. Stocky, one might say.’ He pursed his lips. ‘Yes. Or rather, no. I’m certain it was my assistant.’
