The Feaster From The Stars (Blackwood and Harrington) Read Online Free Page B

shivering slightly as she did so.
    This elicited a brief smile from the Special Investigator, who said, ‘Appropriate weather, don’t you think?’
    Sophia didn’t answer; instead, she looked left and right at the long, four-storied wings which extended in each direction out from the central block. Massive, monolithic and silent, they contained the patient galleries – the male patients on the right and the female on the left. The central block, before which she and Blackwood now stood, contained the administrative offices and the chapel. She shivered again, although this time it was not from the cold, dank air.
    ‘Are you all right, Sophia?’ asked Blackwood with a frown of concern.
    She gave him a brief smile. ‘Yes, Thomas.’
    They climbed the wide steps leading up to the main entrance, which led in to a large foyer, panelled in grim, dark oak. The clerk at the reception desk, a man of middle years, dressed in a neat black suit, looked up and said, ‘Good afternoon, sir, madam. How may I assist you?’
    ‘Good afternoon,’ Blackwood replied, showing the man his identification. ‘My name is Thomas Blackwood, and this is Lady Sophia Harrington. We are here to see Dr Graham Davenport concerning a recently admitted patient.’
    ‘Ah, yes. The doctor informed me that you would be coming. Would you please sign the visitors’ register?’ He indicated a large book that lay open on the desk.
    While Blackwood and Sophia did so, the clerk hailed a passing orderly. ‘Conrad, will you please escort this lady and gentleman to Dr Davenport’s office?’
    The orderly, a tall, burly man dressed in a white coat and trousers, nodded and came over. ‘This way, if you please.’
    Blackwood and Sophia followed him along a short corridor to the doctors’ rooms, where he left them at the door to Dr Davenport’s office.
    Blackwood knocked, and a voice drifted out to them. ‘Come!’
    They entered a chamber which was every bit as dull and dreary as the foyer, although it was neat and clean and was dominated by a large rolltop desk, before which sat a young, prematurely balding man with a thin beard and an inquisitive expression. The man turned his penetrating blue eyes upon them and said, ‘Can I help you?’
    Blackwood introduced himself and Sophia.
    ‘Oh, of course! Do forgive me,’ said Dr Davenport, rising from the desk and offering them his hand. ‘I’d quite forgotten our appointment. You’re here to discuss Mr Morgan’s case, aren’t you?’
    ‘Correct, sir,’ said Blackwood with a smile. He took in the man’s slightly flustered demeanour. ‘It looks as if you have a great many matters to attend to, if you’ll pardon me for saying so. I promise we shan’t keep you long.’
    ‘Not at all, Mr Blackwood – although you are quite correct, and I’m bound to say it’s always the case.’ Davenport gave a brief laugh of embarrassment as he brought the only other chair besides his own from a corner of the office and placed it before Sophia. ‘Please, madam, do take a seat. I, er, I’ll see if I can rustle up another chair from somewhere.’
    Blackwood held up a hand. ‘Please don’t trouble yourself, Doctor. I am more than happy to stand.’
    ‘Oh, well, if you’re quite sure…’
    ‘Quite sure, thank you.’
    Davenport took his own seat. ‘May I offer you some refreshment?’
    His visitors shook their heads.
    ‘Well then. Mr Morgan.’
    ‘Mr Morgan.’
    ‘Yes, he was brought to us in the small hours of this morning and admitted straight away. I conducted the preliminary examination.’
    ‘What were your observations?’ asked Blackwood.
    ‘His symptoms are quite striking, especially in view of the fact that he has apparently never suffered a mental episode of any kind before. Yes… very striking indeed. A complete breakdown of all the higher brain functions. I must admit I’ve never seen anything quite like it.’
    ‘What do you think caused it, Doctor?’ asked Sophia.
    Davenport hesitated