“Well, that was sufficient.”
“An arcus senilis, in your opinion, denotes a mental deterioration?”
“It is a symptom, yes.”
“And just what is an arcus senilis, not in technical terms, but describe it.”
“It appears as a crescent-shaped ring in the outer periphery of the cornea.”
Mason suddenly raised his head. “Similar to the white crescent shape in the eye of His Honor, Judge Treadwell?” he asked.
Coincident with the asking of the question, Judge Treadwell leaned across the bench to stare at the witness.
Dr. Londonberry, startled, glanced up at the judge, then suddenly became confused. “Of course,” he said, “an arcus senilis is not in itself indicative of psychosis. It is a symptom.”
“Symptom of what?” Judge Treadwell asked acidly.
“A symptom of physical deterioration which, taken in connection with other symptoms, may indicate a mental deterioration.”
“In other words,” Judge Treadwell said, “if I should be taking a ride in an automobile, and two male nurses dragged me from the car, and I showed intense anger, that, coupled with my arcus senilis, would lead you to believe I was suffering from senile dementia, would it not?”
The witness fidgeted uneasily and said, “I hardly think that’s a fair question, Your Honor.”
“For your information,” Judge Treadwell said, “I have had this arcus senilis for the last twenty-two years, and for your further information, I would be very much inclined to resent a highhanded interference with my liberties by any male nurses at your institution, Doctor.” He turned to Mason. “Are there any other questions, counselor?”
“None, Your Honor.”
Judge Treadwell leaned forward. “The court thinks this examination has gone far enough. The court doesn’t mind stating that this is merely another one of those cases in which a man, somewhat past the prime of life, is very apparently imposed upon by greedy and officious relatives, whose affection is predicated primarily on a financial consideration, and who are impatient that the object of their so-called affection is sufficiently inconsiderate to postpone shuffling the mortal coil, leaving behind, of course, a favorable will.
“Now the court is not in the least impressed with Dr. Londonberry’s reason for not producing Alden Leeds in court. This court is getting more than a little out of patience with persons who feel that a judicial order is of no more importance than a tag for the violation of a parking ordinance. The court is going forthwith to Dr. Londonberry’s sanitarium and examine the patient. If the court feels there is any necessity for doing so, the court will retain some reputable psychiatrist to pass upon the condition of Alden Leeds. If it appears that Alden Leeds is in the possession of his mental faculties to the extent usually found in a man of his years, the court is going to take drastic action for the flagrant and deliberate disregard of the court’s order to produce the said Alden Leeds in court at this hour.
“Gentlemen, court will take a recess until two o’clock this afternoon. We will depart forthwith for Dr. Londonberry’s sanitarium. The court will ask the bailiff to see that the sheriff’s office furnishes transportation for Dr. Londonberry and the parties in the case. The court specifically warns anyone that any attempt to communicate with the sanitarium and prepare the persons in charge for the tour of inspection which is to be made will be considered as contempt of court.”
“But, Your Honor,” counsel shouted in protest. “This man is...”
“Sit down,” Judge Treadwell said. “The court has made its order. Court is adjourned until two o’clock this afternoon.”
The bailiff banged his gavel. Judge Treadwell marched with judicial dignity down the steps of the rostrum and through the door into chambers.
Some thirty minutes later, Mason parked his car in front of the sanitarium. The sheriff’s car with Judge Treadwell, Freeman Leeds, Jason Carrel, Dr. Londonberry, and the attorney was waiting at the curb.
“Very well,” Judge Treadwell said, “it appearing that the interested parties are here, we will now enter the sanitarium. Lead the way, Doctor, and please remember that we wish to drop in on the patient unannounced. I wish to see conditions as they are.”
They entered the sanitarium.
Dr. Londonberry, as ruffled and indignant as a wet cat, led the way down a long corridor. A nurse, in a white, starched uniform came forward. “The key to thirty-five please,” Dr. Londonberry said.
“You keep that door locked?” Judge Treadwell asked.
“Yes, we do,” Dr. Londonberry said. “All he has to do is press a button when he wants anything. With patients of this sort, it’s imperative to keep them quiet.”
“Very well,” Judge Treadwell said. “We’ll see what the patient has to say for himself.”
The nurse produced a key. Dr. Londonberry took it, fitted it to the lock in the door, flung it open, and stood to one side.
“Some visitors for you, Mr. Leeds,” he said. “I think you had better come first, Miss Leeds.” He bowed to Phyllis, then turned back, and stiffened in surprise.
There was no one in the room.
For several silent seconds, the little group stood there, staring at a cheerful room containing an immaculate hospital bed with snowy white linen, a reclining chair, a white enameled bedroom table, and a dresser with a mirror. A bathroom door, standing open, disclosed a white tile floor, a porcelain washstand with a medicine cabinet and mirror on the wall. Part of a bathtub was visible just beyond the open door.
Dr. Londonberry strode across the room, pushed open the bathroom door, looked inside, then turned swiftly on his heel, and, completely disregarding the group, pushed his way through them to stand in the corridor and summon the nurse.
“Where’s the patient in thirty-five?” he asked.
She stared at the room in surprise. “Why, he was there less than an hour ago.”
Judge Treadwell crossed the room to stare at the window around which an ornamental, iron grille work shut off a little balcony some four feet wide.
Dr. Londonberry said, somewhat hastily, “That’s a precaution we take with most of the rooms on the ground floor. It keeps the patient from escaping.”
“It evidently didn’t keep this one,” Judge Treadwell said dryly.
“I beg your pardon,” Dr. Londonberry observed, opening the window and shaking the iron grating. “The patient didn’t leave by this window... Where are his clothes, nurse?”
“In the locker room, locker thirty-five.”
“Get them,” Dr. Londonberry said.
Judge Treadwell observed almost tonelessly, “I take it, this patient isn’t wandering around clad in a nightgown.”
“He was wearing pajamas, a dressing gown, and slippers,” Dr. Londonberry said.
He opened the bottom dresser drawer. It was empty save for some towels and clean sheets. He opened the second drawer, and disclosed a neatly folded dressing gown on top of which were pajamas and slippers.
“Good Heavens!” he said. “The man must be naked!”
They heard the patter of running steps in the corridor. The nurse returned to stare at them in white-faced consternation. “The locker door was closed and locked,” she said. “The clothes are gone.”
Phyllis Leeds exclaimed, “I don’t believe it! This is some trick they’ve thought up.”
“If it’s a trick,” Judge Treadwell said, “it will prove an expensive one for the parties who perpetrated it. I’ll see that they occupy a room where they’ll be kept out of mischief for some time.”
Dr. Londonberry said wrathfully to the nurse, “You’re responsible for this. How could it have happened?”