A Puzzle for fools Read Free

even a slight shock might be sufficient to retard their progress for months, might possibly prevent their ever getting well. As a theatrical producer you must have been thrown in contact with highly strung, temperamental people, and you know how little things can upset them."
    He had stirred my interest all right. Forgetting that I was a semi-mental case wrapped up in a blanket, I asked questions curiously. Doctor Lenz was surprisingly lacking in reticence. He told me frankly that he had no means of localizing the disturbance to any particular place or person. All he could say was that there was a subversive influence, and that he was worried about his institution.
    "My responsibilities are great," he remarked with a slight smile. "Naturally, it means everything to me as an individual and as a psychiatrist that my patients should make good progress. But there are other complications, too. Take the case of Herr Stroubel, for example. He is certainly one of the greatest conductors of our age. His return to health is eagerly awaited by the musical world. The board of directors of the Eastern Symphony Orchestra have even offered to donate ten thousand dollars to the institution on the day he leaves us, a well man. He had been showing splendid progress; but recently there has been a distinct setback."
    Doctor Lenz told me no details, but I guessed that the famous conductor must have been frightened just as I had been frightened earlier that night.
    "There is another case," continued Lenz slowly, "which is even more delicate. Mr. Laribee, as you know, is an immensely wealthy man. He has made and lost several huge fortunes on the stock market." He passed a hand across his beard. "Mr. Laribee has appointed his daughter and myself as trustees of his estate. By the present arrangement a great deal of money will come to the institution at his death, or at any time when he should have to be certified permanently insane."
    "And you mean he's being upset, too?*
    "No. Not yet." The gray eyes stared at me fixedly. "But you can imagine how worried I am lest this—er— influence should affect him. He is doing well at present But if he should suffer from any shock while under my care, you can guess what people would think—the scandal."
    He broke off and for a moment neither of us spoke. Until then I had been too intrigued to wonder why Doctor Lenz should have confided so casually in a half-cured drunk. Now the thought came into my mind and I asked him point-blank.
    "I have told you this, Mr. Duluth," he announced solemnly, "because I want you to help me. Of course, I have absolute confidence in my staff but in this particular case they can be of no great assistance. People who are mentally sick are often reserved. They do not like to tell their medical attendants about the things which upset them, especially when they fancy that those things are part of their own sickness. Patients who would not talk to their physicians might talk to you as a fellow inmate."
    It was a long time since anyone had put me in a position of trust. I told him so and he smiled slowly.
    "I have deliberately asked your help," he said, "because you are one of the few patients here whose mind is basically healthy. As I have said, I feel that you need nothing more than an interest in life. I thought this might help to give you that interest."
    I didn't speak for a moment. Then I asked: "But that voice said there would be murder. Aren't you going to take that seriously?"
    "You seem to have misunderstood me, Mr. Duluth." Lenz's voice chilled slightly. "I take everything very seriously indeed. But this is a mental hospital. In an institution of this type, one does not take everything which is heard or seen literally."
    I didn't grasp his point, but he left me no time for questions. He spent the next few minutes making me feel good, as only expensive psychiatrists can. Then he rang the bell for Warren to take me back to my room.
    As I waited for the night attendant, I