The Yale expositor. (Yale, St. Clair County, Mich.) 1894-current, 1911-10-12

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oughly to understand his delusion.
He is now In my ward" he said.
He has been there six months; rath-
er unusual case; harmless but hope
less. Can't rid himself of the idea
that diamonds are banked up all
around him, and that all he has to do
is to make one with his own hands to
possess the whole Of that wealth in
jewels. He does his best to make it,
too. Unfortunately the ingredients he
demands include several dangerous
chemicals, and of course he cannot be
trusted to go pounding away with a
pestle and mortar when his brain is
so far gone that he is likely to for
get the combination"
The other medical men looked in
terested
What do you do with him, doctor?"
asked Fitch.
"Oh, l substitute harmless things
a little bismuth and sodium phosphate,
and a dash of French chalk, and he
thinks he has everything he needs.
All the stuff he wants that is not dan
gerous 1 let him have. He is happy
enough mixing and MASKING the paste
and hammering away all day long. He
rolls the mass into dirty little gray
balls, and thinks they are diamonds"
Let us have look at him." said
Fitch
Sure thing! You don't mind IL l
don't go with you? l have an ampu-
tation on In about ten minutes, and as
there Is a green nurse helping me,
don't want to take any chances in let
ting her monkey with the ether cone.
So you won't mind, will you, if ask
you to run right along by yourself?
Stay as long as you like"
Britt and Fitch were glad enough of
an opportunity to question the old
man without an auditor, and with
brief, $50 long!" to his colleagues,
the doctor piloted the detective
through dreary stretches in that home
OF hopelessness to the ward where the
curio dealer was found.
In sunny corner of the long, bleak
room, the barrenness Of which was re-
lieved slightly by few boxes and
pots Of geraniums and fuchsias on the
window sill, seated at a bench cover
ed with odd-looking leather, was the
little old man the physician and the
Headquarters sleuth sought
In the patients face was rapt look
that told them he was as far away
from his present environment as If he
had been In the little dingy curio shop
where young DR.. Fitch first had seen
him. His plant hands had been
plunged many times into a dough-like
lump plastic as a sculptor's clay at
one end Of the bench. A row OF jars
at the back Of the bench was flank
ed by phalanx of walls. An earthern
bowl half full Of water stood at his
right hand. Directly IN front OF him,
scattered in workmanlike confusion,
were several palette knives and mix
ing brushes. Ceaselessly his fingers
plucked tiny pellets from the plastic
lump, rolled and patted them, dipped
them in the bowl of water, coated
them with the many-colored contents
of the walls and Jars, then trundled
them upon the board with industry
purposeful Of performance, but pur-
poseless Of achievement
At times a spectral smile seemed to
glow upon his cadaverous features-a
faint CLEAN like the specter of
corpse-light. The sunlight, reflected
from the rows Of jars and bottles, play
ed queer tricks with the contour of
his face and gave his tireless hands
ghost-like appearance. He was a poor
little shriveled remnant of a man, the
dried core of what had been a dab
bier in the occult, and which along
normal channels might have been a
distinguished scientist No one look
ing at him could ever have pictured
him as possessed of the greed of gain.
Britz, though he made no pretense of
being a psychologist, comprehended
at glance the outer vision of the
former curiosity shop proprietor con-
veyed little to his distraught scien-
tific mind. Beyond doubt, the old
man, as Fitch had said, had run the
shop merely as q means to an end.
Fitch and Britt stood looking at him
for few moments before he became
aware Of their presence. When at
last he glanced up, shade of perplex-
ity fitted across his face, his fingers
halted, but they did not stop in their
studious task, and he looked at them
inquiringly. With a slight shake of
his head he apparently gave up the
attempt to puzzle out their identity,
and once more bent his eyes on the
bench he firmly regarded as the thres-
hold to Golconda.
Guess you don't remember me, Mr..
Martin" said the doctor. The old man
appeared not to hear. Britt and Fitch
exchanged glances, and the detective
took up the attempt to awaken a re-
spouse from the aged inmates mental
vacuum.
Pretty busy man, chr" said Britt.
He had touched the right chord.
Any reference to the industry that alb
sorbed his fading senses was sure to
arouse the intelligence of the old
curio dealer. He nodded briskly, and
went on with his work more zealously
than before.