You remember Horace Calverley? Well, this is his son. Horace
and I were schoolmates, you know, and after his death the boy, Fred,
hung on to me rather. We're near neighbours down at Weybridge, and very
good friends. I like Fred. He's a good fellow, though cranky, like all
his people."
"What has happened to Fred Calverley?" Thorndyke asked, as the solicitor
paused.
"Why, the fact is," said Mr. Brodribb, "just lately he seems to be going
a bit queer--not mad, mind you--at least, I think not--but undoubtedly
queer. Now, there is a good deal of property, and a good many highly
interested relatives, and, as a natural consequence, there is some talk
of getting him certified. They're afraid he may do something involving
the estate or develop homicidal tendencies, and they talk of possible
suicide--you remember his father's death--but I say that's all bunkum.
The fellow is just a bit cranky, and nothing more."
"What are his symptoms?" asked Thorndyke.
"Oh, he thinks he is being followed about and watched, and he has
delusions; sees himself in the glass with the wrong face, and that sort
of thing, you know.
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