The Mad Doctor of London Part V

The Mad Doctor of London

A Great Mouse Detective Pastiche

By E. Grimes

In Part IV: Dr. Heinrich Von Seyss has now resumed his criminal medical experiments in the East End.
His first victim is Hubert Downing, the neighbourhood tinker. Von Seyss brings Downing to his flat,
then while plying the tinker with drink, drugs him, then later injects him with a plant serum. The
experiment backfires when Downing flies into a violent rage. Afraid of being discovered, Von Seyss
lures Downing outside to his death by way of a passing coach, thus avoiding suspicion---or so
he thinks.

Tommy Higgins, a street urchin and a friend of the tinker's, is certain that Downing's death was
no accident. After a frightening confrontation with Von Seyss some days later, Tommy heads straight
for Lower 221 B Baker Street and confides his suspicions to Basil and Dr. Dawson.

The detective has read of Von Seyss' crimes in Austria; and suspicious of mysterious events in the
East End, is now certain that the doctor is in hiding in London---and yet again preying on
the innocent.

Meanwhile, another experiment by Von Seyss goes awry with an elderly flower seller, Emma Tilbury.
Seeing a vision of his dead mother in Miss Tilbury's face, Von Seyss is unable to go through with
his murderous work and releases the old woman, warning her not to inform on him if she values her life.

Basil now begins the hunt for the insane Viennese doctor. Von Seyss, meanwhile, realises that
he can no longer show his normal face around London. Eventually, he discovers a way to hide
his identity and lure even more victims---by assuming a most insidious and unthinkable disguise.

Part V: The Search for Von Seyss

Basil, sure by now of his suspicions, began his investigation in earnest that night. He wished to
waste no time, for Dr. Von Seyss had already left a trail of dead or injured bodies. The sooner he
was caught, the sooner the streets of London would be safe from his evil.

And so, Basil and Dawson searched out the East End, discreetly questioning various costermongers,
beggars, barkeeps---any who might have seen the doctor about.

Many reported a mysterious gentlemouse with a Germanic accent, well-dressed in dark clothing
and wearing a monocle, who often approached the slum dwellers and introduced himself as a
doctor. He never gave his name, yet always behaved in a charming manner---especially towards
women and children.

"It certainly contrasts with young Tommy's description, doesn't it?" Dr. Dawson suggested to
his friend.

"That it does," Basil answered, "But it doesn't belie it by any means. Even a snake can be
glittering and graceful---until it sinks its fangs into one's flesh."

More importantly, Basil noted: this same charming, nameless physician, who appeared to be so
concerned for the health of the East End mice, was seen leading several of them off. Such were
found later on, dead or dying, or behaving in a most bizarre manner.

The detective advised his informants to beware of the strange doctor, yet to behave as normally
as possible around him. They were further requested to report any suspicious movements.

Following Tommy Higgins' description of the bun seller, Basil and Dawson sought the fellow out
and questioned him the next day.

"Ah dun't know 'bout no doctah bloke," explained the costermonger. "Jost 'at th' lad woz pinchin'
off me cart, an' whin oi grobbed 'im, some fancy lookin' blightah cum up an' giv me a few coins.
'e wos talkin' rathah odd, too---din't sound loike no English bloke.

"Th' chap tryed ter give th' boy th' buns, but yon lad din't wan' 'em...jost stood starin' at th' fancy bloke,
loike 'e wos scairt ter death! Then th'chap took 'old uv th'boy's arm, an' th' lad screeched loike th' cat
'ad 'im, call'd th' bloke a murderah, an' run awf."

"Exactly what young Master Higgins told me," Basil said. "Now I know for certain that he was
telling the truth---not that I doubted it before, even though I've known the boy to lie. But did you
notice anything else, sir?"

The bun seller stood quiet for a moment, then frowned darkly as he suddenly recalled something...

"Mistah Basil," he said in a low voice, "it moight jost 'ave been me imag'nin', but---aftah th' lad
did all 'at, oi turned t'look 'at th' fancy chap...an' 'ere wos a look in 'is oyes wot made me flesh crawl."

"Did he say anything?"

"Naw, suh...jost stood 'ere glarin' aftah th' boy...loike 'e want'd ter kill 'im!!!"

Basil nodded gravely, his thoughts his own.

Suddenly, their attention was turned to a frail-looking, middle-aged lady mouse, who was trudging up
the street with a basket of violets. Her sad and nervous demeanor did not escape the detective's notice.

" 'at's Emma," the bun seller said with sympathy. "Emma Tilbury. Poor ol' gel...ah din't know wot's botherin'
'er. She wos allays so chippah an' sweet...an' now, she jost goes about lookin' loike she lawst 'er best frien'."
He called out to Emma in a cheery voice, but the old woman looked up at him, startled, then gave a weak nod
of greeting and a sickly smile. However, she went on her way instead of stopping to speak.

"Skairt uv 'er oon shadder, she is," the costermonger said sadly.

"Hmm...that's quite odd," Basil commented, as they all watched Emma sit on a step up the street
and look around anxiously. Thanking the bun seller and slipping him a few shillings, Basil and
Dawson went up to the flower seller.

"I say, Miss Tilbury?" The detective asked pleasantly.

Emma's head quickly shot up at the sight of their shadows and the sound of a male mouse's voice.

"Oh...oh, it's you, Mistah Basil!" she exclaimed, laughing uneasily. "Ah'm quite sorry, suh...would
yeh an' Dr. Dawson loike some violets?"

"Certainly. I'll surprise Mrs. Judson with them," Basil said cheerfully. But as he handed Emma her
money, he gently took her paw.

"Miss Tilbury," he said gently, and in a low voice, "Would you like to come and see me---speak to
me, even?"

Emma looked very frightened just then, but made a pitiful attempt to hide her feelings. "Ah...wot...
wot d'yer mean, suh?"

"I think you have something you need to talk about, Miss Tilbury."

Emma lowered her eyes, trembling. "Naw, naw...oi doesn't, Mistah Basil..."

The detective, not to be refused, gently lifted the old woman's face until her eyes met his. Basil had
eyes that were most intense, and known for a piercing stare, when confronting the criminal element.
But when he dealt with the frightened, the weak, the endangered and despairing, his gaze could be
comforting and almost hypnotic...giving those who sought his help a new sense of hope and strength.

"Dear lady," he whispered, "pray tell me what is frightening you. You can talk to me, if
you can't tell the police...you've met that doctor, haven't you?"

This time, even Basil's kindly gaze wasn't enough to comfort the terrified old woman.

"Naw suh! Naw suh!!" Emma cried out, turning pale and shaking her head frantically. "Oi an't
seen no doctah! 'ere ain't no doctah 'round 'ere! Please, Mistah Basil, jost tyke yer flow'rs an' go
'ome!" She grabbed her basket and rose up quickly.

"But, gentle lady..." began Dr. Dawson in great concern.

"Din't call me 'at, suh!" Emma cried, as the memory of that terrible night with Von Seyss came
back with a vengeance. " 'e call't me 'gentul lydy', jost 'fore 'e took 'at needle an' troid ter...troid
ter..." She gasped painfully as she caught herself, and put her paws to her mouth, sobbing and shaking
her head.

"Who, Miss Tilbury? What did he try to do?" Basil asked earnestly, as he gently took Emma's shoulders.

But Emma shook him off, as fear made her wits desert her. "T'wasn't ennyone, Mistah Basil...t'wasn't
ennyone! Oi cawn't tell yer ennythin', Mistah Basil...'e sed 'e'd kill me ef oi told..."

Basil and Dawson tried to coax the old woman to come back to Baker Street with them; but she moved
quickly down the street, frantically waving them away as they tried to follow her.

"Miss Tilbury--please come back!" the detective pleaded. "Whoever it was, I won't let him harm you!"

Emma would not listen, but kept walking fast, sobbing hysterically all the while.

"Oi'll nevah tell...'e'll kill me...'e'll kill me!!"

There was no point in following her any further, so Basil and Dawson watched helplessly until Emma
was out of sight.

"The poor woman," Dawson sighed. "The bun seller was right--she is frightened of her own shadow."

"No, my dear Doctor," Basil said darkly. "She's frightened of much more than her shadow. And I have
no doubt of who's responsible..."

He spoke no further as the two went home; but Dawson took note of the grim determination in his
friend's face, and the hands clenched in silent anger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It can't go on like this, pondered Von Seyss, as he sat glumly in his room, trying to wash away last night's
events with a bottle of cognac.

He had slept but little, with the many fevered pictures rushing through his thoughts. And now there was
that little paradox to further weigh on his soul...the image of his murdered mother, burning endlessly like a
memorial flame in Von Seyss' tortured mind, that had spurred him on and on in his deadly work. Yet by a
singular twist of Fate, that same image had kept him from taking the life of Emma Tilbury. So badly
was Von Seyss shaken that he had even released the old woman, knowing full well the risk he was
taking. He had threatened Emma into silence, however...

But for how long? Von Seyss asked himself. How long before the old biddy's tongue loosens up? And I
don't dare come near her anymore!

The doctor found even more reason to be anxious, for he had been reading the London newspapers as well,
and now began to suspect that he was in danger of being found out. It would no longer be wise, he realised,
to appear in public as a doctor. Furthermore, Von Seyss mused further, it would not only be safer but far
more practical to disguise himself, even changing his features somehow---but in such a manner as to carry
on with his vengeful mission without bringing suspicion to himself.

Thus, the mysterious doctor was no longer seen in the East End; and to the frustration of Basil of Baker
Street, no one seemed to know where the stranger had gone. What was worse, by the time
Basil had gathered information about the doctor's residence, Von Seyss' flat was found empty.
Yet the detective discovered such clues as chemical stains---being a scientist himself, he could
tell in an instant that a crude lab had been set up in the cellar. There were far more disturbing signs,
bits of hair and broken ropes, even bloodstains that had been hurriedly scrubbed away. The doctor, in
his haste to leave, had neglected to clean the flat entirely; yet it had been enough to throw Basil
off of his trail---for the moment.

Meanwhile, nobody paid much mind to the ragged peddler in black that roamed through London the next few
days, behaving in a charming manner, yet keeping much to himself. It didn't seem to matter that this same
peddler faithfully kept up with local gossip and seemed obsessed with the daily newspapers...nor that
he suddenly took great interest in a certain mouse detective. Whenever he caught sight of Basil, the peddler
would eye every move he made, and listen intently to every word he spoke---all from as safe a distance as
possible.

None of this escaped Basil's notice, especially when he spotted the peddler hanging around Baker Street
a few times, watching Basil and Dawson as they entered their flat. Yet their "visitor" would somehow
manage to turn away or disappear before the two gentlemice could confront him. Needless to say, the
detective sensed the stranger was up to something, but could not yet figure it out---what with the
Von Seyss case so much on his mind. Little did he guess that there was a definite connection between
the two, that someone was studying his face and form, taking careful note of his voice and his mannerisms.

Nor could Basil have known that this same charming, yet shy peddler was discreetly gathering local
tidbits about the famous mouse detective, but had also read of his cases in his native Austria...and
knowing now that Basil was hot on his trail, was racking his brain to keep his tracks covered. It was
then that there came to his twisted mind an idea far more insidious than any he'd ever thought of; a
plan so brilliant, yet so unspeakably evil...for Dr. Heinrich Von Seyss had discovered, not only a new
identity, but a means to lure more victims by gaining their trust.

And so it was one dark night, in the bedroom of his new flat, that Von Seyss sat at his dresser before
a small mirror. At hand lay a tray of crude cosmetics, fashioned by the doctor himself; beside them
were a brush and other toilet articles. Closest to them was a photograph of a certain well-known English
mouse...

Von Seyss applied his makeup carefully: a little tea and walnut juice mingled with beeswax and vaseline
to darken his light tan fur, with some Chinese rice powder to smooth over the effect. Now, to blacken
the eyebrows and brush down the hair, then a bit of cologne...

Satisfied with the results, the doctor went to work on the rest of his costume. He dressed himself
meticulously---everything had to be exactly right, from the colour of the trousers to the length of
the starched collars. The waistcoat, the shoes, all had to be a perfect match...finally, the cape, and
last of all, the deerstalker cap.

Tucking his monocle safely in his watch-pocket, Von Seyss now stood before his cheval glass and
surveyed his handiwork. He straightened himself, gave a cocky glance at his reflection, and intoned
in a perfect and carefully rehearsed English accent:

"Elementary, my dear Dawson..."

At the very sound of the voice, Von Seyss could not help giggling; but delirious with pride at his
own genius, he staggered and grabbed the mirror frame as the hysterical chuckle bubbling from his
throat became shrieks of wild and triumphant laughter.

And if anyone passing by could have seen through the curtained windows, they would have wondered
why Basil of Baker Street was in a strange flat, laughing maniacally before a mirror...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A month earlier, a young female mouse with flaxen hair and blue eyes had arrived in England. Weary,
hungry and sick, she had trudged through the countryside before coming upon a tiny farmhouse on the
outskirts of London. The kind mouse couple living there gave her shelter; seeing that she was destitute,
they asked her to stay with them, and cared for her as though she had been their daughter.

Anna Heinstoffer had miraculously survived Von Seyss' attempt to murder her. The neighbours had heard her
screams and come running to the Von Seyss house, to find the unfortunate girl crumpled at the bottom of the
stairs---yet still breathing. Von Seyss was nowhere to be found; but while Anna cooperated in part and told the
police what had happened, she stubbornly refused to let them know where the doctor had gone, in spite of
coaxes, promises and even threats.

When she felt strong enough to leave the hospital, Anna crept out one night and boarded a train, then a ship
to England, scrounging what food and drink she could find in the course of her travels. She endured it all with
only a single thought at first: to find her Heinrich, still loving him in spite of his cruelty; and in her innocence,
hoping somehow that his heart had softened, and that life would be what it had been before.

But she was alone now, in a country whose language and customs were strange to her, and with only the
clothes on her back. It had been a difficult and painful journey to London, and having found a safe place
at last and plenty of food, Anna decided to stay on the farm and rest awhile. There would be plenty of
time to find Von Seyss; meanwhile, she had to get her strength back and take care of herself. For Fate
had been doubly merciful, and Anna had not been the only survivor...

End Part V

Part VI: Innocence and Betrayal: Anna's Story (Pt. I )

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