At least, Dr Mellinger reflected, only one patient had disappeared, a negative sentiment which assumed greater meaning in view of the outcry that would be raised from the world outside when it was discovered that a patient obviously a homicidal lunatic — had remained at large for over twelve hours before the police were notified.
This decision not to inform the civil authorities, an error of judgement whose culpability seemed to mount as the hours passed, alone prevented Dr Mellinger from finding an immediate scapegoat — a convenient one would have been little Dr Mendelsohn of the Pathology Department, an unimportant branch of the asylum — and sacrificing him on the altar of his own indiscretion. His natural caution, and reluctance to yield an inch of ground unless compelled, had prevented Dr Mellinger from raising the general alarm during the first hours after Hinton’s disappearance, when some doubt still remained whether the latter had actually left the asylum. Although the failure to find Hinton might have been interpreted as a reasonable indication that he had successfully escaped, Dr Mellinger had characteristically refused to accept such faulty logic.
By now, over twelve hours later, his miscalculation had become apparent. As the thin smirk on Dr Normand’s face revealed, and as his other subordinates would soon realize, his directorship of the asylum was now at stake. Unless they found Hinton within a few hours he would be placed in an untenable position before both the civil authorities and the trustees.
However, Dr Mellinger reminded himself, it was not without the exercise of considerable guile and resource that he had become Director of Green Hill in the first place.
‘Where is he?’
Shifting his emphasis from the first of these interrogatories to the second, as if to illustrate that the fruitless search for Hinton’s whereabouts had been superseded by an examination of his total existential role in the unhappy farce of which he was the author and principal star, Dr Mellinger turned upon his three breakfastless subordinates.
‘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.’
‘How interesting.’ Dr Mellinger had visibly revived, the gleams of ironic humour which flashed from his eyes revealed some potent inner transformation. The burden of irritations and frustrations which had plagued him for the past day seemed to have been lifted. ‘Does this mean, Dr Normand, that this entire institution has been mobilized in a search for a man whom no one here could recognize even if they found him? You surprise me, my dear Normand. I was under the impression that you were a man of cool and analytical intelligence, but in your search for Hinton you are obviously employing more arcane powers.’
‘But, Director! I cannot be expected to memorize the face of every patient—’ ‘Enough, enough!’ Dr Mellinger stood up with a flourish, and resumed his circuit of the carpet. ‘This is all very disturbing. Obviously the whole relationship between Green Hill and its patients must be re-examined. Our patients are not faceless ciphers, gentlemen, but the possessors of unique and vital identities. If we regard them as nonentities and fail to invest them with any personal characteristics, is it surprising that they should seem to disappear? I suggest that we put aside the next few days and dedicate them to a careful re-appraisal. Let us scrutinize all those facile assumptions we make so readily.’ Impelled by this vision, Dr Mellinger stepped into the light pouring through the window, as if to expose himself to this new revelation. ‘Yes, this is the task that lies before us now; from its successful conclusion will emerge a new Green Hill, a Green Hill without shadows and conspiracies, where patients and physicians stand before each other in mutual trust and responsibility.’