Although Carriston stated that he came to me for aid, and, it may be, for protection, he manifested the greatest in following any advice I offered him. The of his refusal to obtain the assistance of the police placed me in a predicament. That Madeline Rowan had really disappeared I was, of course, compelled to believe. It might even be possible that she was kept against her will in some place of . In such a case it us to take proper steps to trace her. Her welfare should not depend upon the hallucinations and eccentric ideas of a man half out of his senses with love and grief. I all but resolved, even at the risk of Carriston’s friendship, to put the whole matter in the hands of the police, unless in the course of a day or two we heard from the girl herself, or Carriston suggested some better plan.
enough, although refusing to be guided by me, he made no suggestion on his own account. He was racked by fear and , yet his only idea of solving difficulties seemed to be that of waiting. He did nothing. He simply waited, as if he expected that chance would bring what he should have been searching for high and low.
Some days passed before I could get a consent that aid should be sought. Even then he would not go to the proper quarter; but he allowed me to summon to our councils a man who advertised himself as being a private detective. This man, or one of his men, came at our call, and heard what was wanted of him. Carriston reluctantly gave him one of Madeline’s photographs.[249] He also told him that only by watching and spying on Ralph Carriston’s every action could he hope to obtain the clew. I did not much like the course adopted, nor did I like the look of the man to whom the was intrusted; but at any rate something was being done.
A week passed without any news from our agent. Carriston, in truth, did not seem to expect any. I believe he only employed the man in to my wishes. He moved about the house in a fashion. I had not told him of my interview with his cousin, but had cautioned him on the rare occasions upon which he went out of doors to avoid speaking to strangers, and my servants had strict instructions to prevent any one coming in and taking my guest by surprise.
For I had during those days opened a inquiry on my own account. I wanted to learn something about this Mr. Ralph Carriston. So I asked a man who knew everybody to find out all about him.
He reported that Ralph Carriston was a man well known about London. He was married and had a house in Dorsetshire; but the greater part of his time was spent in town. Once he was supposed to be well-off; but now it was the general opinion that every acre he owned was mortgaged, and that he was much pressed for money. “But,” my informant said, “there is but one life between him and the reversion to large estates, and that life is a poor one. I believe even now there is talk about the man who stands in his way being mad. If so, Ralph Carriston will get the management of everything.”
After this news I felt it more than ever needful to[250] keep a eye on my friend. So far as I knew there had been no of the trance, and I began to hope that proper treatment would effect a complete cure, when, to my great alarm and , Carriston, while sitting with me, suddenly and without warning fell into the same strange state of body and mind as described. This time he was sitting in another part of the room. After watching him for a minute or two, and just as I was making up my mind to arouse him and scold him for his , he sprung to his feet, and shouting, “Let her go! Loose her, I say!” rushed violently across the room—so violently, that I had barely time to interpose and prevent him from coming into contact with the opposite wall.
Upon returning to his senses he told me, with great excitement, that he had again seen Madeline; moreover, this time he had seen a man with her—a man who had placed his hand upon her wrist and kept it there; and so, according to Carriston’s wild reasoning, became, on account of the contact, visible to him.
He told me he had watched them for some moments, until the man, his grip on the girl’s arm, endeavored, he thought, to lead her or induce her to follow him somewhere. At this , that he was gazing at a vision, he had rushed to her assistance in the way I have described—then he awoke.
He also told me he had studied the man’s features and general appearance most carefully with a view to future recognition. All these ridiculous statements were made as he made the former ones, with the air of one relating simple, undeniable facts—one speaking[251] the plain, unvarnished truth, and expecting full to be given to his words.
It was too absurd! too sad! It was evident to me that the barrier between his hallucinations, dreams, visions, or what he chose to call them, and pure , was now a very slight and fragile one. But before I gave up his case as hopeless I to make another strong appeal to his common-sense. I told him of his cousin’s visit to............