The Florentine Dagger: A Novel for Amateur DetectivesHecht, Ben
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The Florentine Dagger: A Novel for Amateur Detectives
Hecht, Ben
Detective and mystery stories; Insanity (Law) -- Fiction; Murder -- Fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction
“Before I go on, Julien, I must impress one thing on you. Prejudice is a
poor guide for deduction. If you are in love with poor Florence you will
be helping her more by facing the facts squarely....”
“My emotions are in abeyance, Hugo. I listen only as a Dr. Watson.”
“Very well. I will first indulge in a modest preamble.”
“A short one would be better.”
“Facetiousness,” smiled Dr. Lytton, “is a good outlet for nerves. I make
no claim to any sort of intelligence on my part for what happened during
the dawn in Rollo. Accident is very often the determining factor in
philosophical as well as scientific discoveries.
“I had come to Rollo to find Floria, and as I was walking the streets
with no place to go or sit down I found her. I saw her at the end of the
block hurrying toward me. Her face was pale, her hair was in disorder,
and her eyes were wide and staring. It was Florence Ballau. She passed
me without any sign of recognition, and I realized at once from the
obvious physical symptoms she presented that she was in a pathologic
state. I followed her. She walked through the streets without purpose or
destination, moving swiftly and blindly.
“After an hour, or what seemed an hour, I caught up with her and took
her arm. She looked at me and said nothing. Now there is one principle
in pathology which is elemental. In talking to a dual personality it is
a waste of energy to address the ‘wrong’ person. Thus, it is futile to
waste one’s breath trying to convince a man who fancies himself the king
of Siam that he is not the king of Siam. Because when addressing the
victim of such an hallucination, one is addressing not the victim, but
the hallucination. Do you follow me?”
De Medici nodded. His mind had grown violently active. The scientist’s
words died in his ears, as more and more he gave himself desperately to
the unraveling of a new and astounding theory that had entered his
thought.
“Well,” continued Dr. Lytton, “knowing this, I took her arm. She looked
at me. I said to her, ‘Good morning, Floria.’ The ruse worked instantly.
Her eyes lighted and a look of complete recognition came to them. She
stood regarding me excitedly for a moment and then collapsed in my arms.
The village drugstore was just opening and I carried her inside. After
the druggist and I had revived her I led her to the hotel and got a
room. We sat down and began to talk. I had the advantage. I knew exactly
the pathologic state with which I was dealing. I said to her: ‘It is
useless to conceal anything, Miss Ballau. I don’t know how you managed
to escape from the police. It may be that they liberated you on their
own account.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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