The Mad Doctor of London Part VII

The Mad Doctor of London

A Great Mouse Detective Pastiche

By E. Grimes

In part VI: Having traveled to London to look for Dr. Von Seyss, Anna Heinstoffer is being
sheltered and cared for by John and Bess Harwicke, a kindly English farm couple. Unable as
yet to continue her search, she is now aware that the child fathered by Von Seyss is soon to be
born.

Remembering her childhood and the tragic death of her parents, Anna also recalls her meeting
the Viennese doctor and how he rescued her from a life of poverty...but at the price of her own
virtue. In spite of this, she is happy to live with Von Seyss, even though his behaviour is often
perplexing to her.

Her curiosity is now growing about the doctor's work, and she is dangerously close to discovering
his hideous profession. But even more sorrow is in store for Anna...

Von Seyss had brought one of his indigent visitors home to share an evening meal. As usual, Anna was
staying in her room; after finishing her dinner, she did her best to pass the time. This particular night,
however, she was horribly bored. The doctor had bought her a grammaphone, and she played a bit
of music on it, but soon tired of that. She was just as weary of her embroidery and her solitaire board.
There were books in her room, but since she had trouble reading, they were of little use to her.

She finally put on her nightgown and went to bed, but was very restless and could not sleep. After
an hour, she went to her window-seat, gazing out over the grounds of the estate. It looked even more
beautiful at night, Anna thought, with the moon shining so brightly. Then a marvelous idea came to
her...why not go for a little walk out there? She wouldn't be bothering Heinrich or his guest, and
surely he wouldn't mind if she went outside?

Temptation and boredom finally got the better of her. Slipping into her dressing gown, Anna crawled
out of the window and strolled the moonlit grounds. She trembled with childish delight at the cool night
air, fragrant with lavender and jasmine. The fish pond seemed all the more mysterious, and the fountain
so magical. Anna wondered why she hadn't thought to steal out before, and resolved to do so thereafter.

Suddenly, she came upon a strangely-shaped mound made up of thick bushes. They seemed to be
covering something; pulling them back, Anna found a cellar door locked tightly from the inside and
covered with an iron bar. Why hadn't Heinrich showed her this place? She stood looking at it until she
heard some odd sounds far off, of someone digging...perhaps, she thought, Heinrich had paid his guest
to do a bit of gardening. But why would he do that at such a late hour?

Anna felt a little nervous at the sound, since she wasn't sure what Heinrich would think of her wandering
out late at night against his wishes. But she also thought of their guest, an old peddler familiar to her...
she never had the chance to speak to any of the visitors, nor to say goodbye to them. This time, she
would not be denied the opportunity.

The digging sounds suddenly stopped; the peddler must be finished with his work. Quickly, Anna
walked away from the cellar entrance, walking around in the darkness in search of the visitor. When
a shadow fell behind her, the young lady turned eagerly, ready to speak. But her smile crumbled into
a gape of terror as she found herself facing Von Seyss. He was sweating and dirty, and glaring wildly
at her.

"What are you doing out here, Anna??" he demanded furiously through clenched teeth. "I told you to
stay in your room!!"

Anna turned sickly white and shrank back in horror...not because she had been discovered, but
because Von Seyss' hands and garments were stained with blood.

"Answer me!!!" Von Seyss ordered, pointing to the uncovered cellar door. "Why did you come out here,
girl? And what were you doing near the cellar?"

"I...I..." Anna struggled to speak; but the doctor's fierce tone and his menacing glare were as frightful
as the bloodstains, and Anna's voice died in her throat. As Von Seyss raised one of his hands toward her,
she bolted away from him, fearing that he would strike her. He caught her before she could go very far;
when she tried to scream, Von Seyss quickly pressed a hand over her mouth and frantically begged her to
stop. Anna, whimpering, pulled his hand away, the smell of blood making her want to gag.

"Anna, liebling," whispered Von Seyss, as he glanced nervously toward the servants' quarters, "please
don't scream! I'm sorry I frightened you so...but please, liebchen, be quiet! They'll hear you over there..."

But the terrified young woman was crying hysterically, and pointing to his bloody hands and waistcoat.

"Das Blut, das schreckliche Blut! " she sobbed. "Who did this, Heinrich?"

Von Seyss looked confused, and even a little frightened. "What? Who did what?"

"Who cut you?" Anna asked in a quavering voice. "Who hurt you, Heinrich?"

The doctor looked down at the stains, and realised what Anna had been thinking. He gave a short laugh
of relief; and quickly wiping his hands with his handkerchief, leaned toward the trembling young woman
in a comforting manner.

"A cat, Anna dear," he explained with a grin. "The wretched beast must have been wandering
about the grounds. It ambushed me as I was sending our guest off...but I'm quite all right, I assure
you.

"Only a cat, liebchen...go back into the house, my dear, before we wake up all the servants!"

Anna seemed to believe his explanation; wiping her eyes, she obediently went back to the house.
But after Von Seyss had bathed and changed his clothes, he warily went to Anna's room. There, he
found her huddled up on her bed and crying again, so frightened had she been over the night's bizarre
happenings. It remained for Von Seyss to calm her down and set things right for her, otherwise she
would be quite difficult to live with---and who knew where that might lead?

She looked up at him, sniffling, but obviously relieved at the doctor's clean appearance and softened
expression.

"You see, liebling," he said cheerfully, "the blood is gone. I bandaged my hand, too; everything is
all right now."

Anna, still shaken, silently put her arms around his neck as he lifted her from the bed and carried
her downstairs to the parlour. He sat down, holding her in his lap, and fed her a bit of chocolate from
a candy dish nearby. As she quietly ate it, he kissed and caressed her warm, wet face, speaking gently
to her.

"That's a good girl," he said softly. "I'm sorry I was so angry. I was badly hurt, and scared out of my
wits from that awful cat---and it worried me so, to see you wandering out there all alone."

"I'm sorry," the young lady said at last, hugging him. "I just got tired of staying in my room. It looked
so pretty outside..."

"I realise that," he answered, smiling. "But now you know how dangerous it can be, don't you? Lots
of horrid creatures come out at night, you know...things like cats and owls, and snakes. You may roam
the grounds in the daytime; but at night, Anna, never go out there unless I'm with you.

"As to the cellar," he added firmly, "I do my work there. There are many dangerous things down there,
things that could hurt you. You must never, but never, go in there or even near there. Do you understand,
Anna?"

The doctor did not answer at first; as he sat with his arms around the young woman, he stared numbly
at his mother's picture on the mantelpiece. For several moments, he gazed at the image, like one
hypnotised. Then he answered slowly, and in a strangely placid whisper:

He spoke no further; he only held Anna quietly until she fell asleep, mercifully unaware of how Heinrich
thought he was improving the world...that there had been no cat, and that the blood stains on Heinrich's
hands and clothing had not been his.

Life in the doctor's household went on normally for some time; at least, as normally as possible under
the circumstances. However, Von Seyss took care to be kinder than usual towards Anna. She was quite
grateful, for kindness had lately become a luxury for the perplexed young woman.

She was beginning to notice a rather aloof attitude from certain of Heinrich's servants, most especially
when the doctor was away. Anna would sometimes catch a disdainful glare, or even a sneer, from one
or more of the staff. She would hear whispered remarks that were never kind or complimentary...and
such names as "Tart!" "Hussy!" and "Kinderbraut [child-bride] !" hissed cruelly behind her when
any of them passed by. Then there was that other word that Anna had never heard before...

She had one friend among the servants, at least: Sofie Berger, the cook and head housekeeper. A
stout, warm-hearted woman, Sofie had taken Anna under her wing from early on and gave her the
motherly attention she so badly needed. She taught Anna to cook, even to read and write some, and
took her to church every Sunday and holy day. It was in fact at one Sunday Mass, during the Biblical
readings, that Anna heard that strange word again.

Sofie looked startled; but glancing cautiously around her, she whispered: "A bad woman...a very
bad woman."

To her astonishment, Anna looked quite hurt, and spoke no more during the rest of the service. By
the time the two were leaving the cathedral, Anna was in tears. Sofie led her to a nearby park,
and sitting on a bench beside her, put an arm around her to comfort her.

"For Heaven's sake, no!" the older woman replied in surprise. "Why would you think that?"

"Because," Anna sobbed, "one of the maids, Berta, called me that name yesterday---'harlot'.
The other servants too, they call me names and treat me so awful!"

Sofie was horrified. "How dare they treat you like that?" she said angrily. "I've seen the looks they've
been giving you, poor child! But why do they act that way...and why on earth would Berta call you
such a dreadful name?"

But she suddenly remembered the night Von Seyss had first brought Anna to the house; his unusual
kindness and generosity, his dancing with the innocent girl and plying her with drink. The looks he had
been giving her...and the good woman blushed painfully as she realised what it had all meant.

"Gott im Himmel, child!" she cried. "What has that monster done to you?"

Anna looked quite shocked. "Heinrich's not a monster, Sofie! He's been so good to me, and has
taken such wonderful care of me. Why would you say such a thing?"

But Sofie could only shake her head sorrowfully; for how could she explain to this guileless young
girl about the terrible suspicions that had troubled her mind the last few days---or about the demons
that plagued Anna's "lover"?

"Oh, Anna...Anna," she said despairingly, "why do you stay with him?"

The young woman stared at her, quite astonished that Sofie could not understand. "I love Heinrich, Sofie,"
she said simply. "And he loves me. He needs me! And I need him, too..."

Sofie took her hand and pressed it gently; as badly as Anna needed the truth, the old woman could not
bear to disillusion the lonely girl. But seeing her troubled face, Anna put her arms around Sofie, gazing
earnestly into the cook's soft grey eyes.

"I'm not a bad woman, am I?" she begged plaintively. "Please, Sofie...am I?"

Sofie, now in tears herself, threw her own arms around Anna and embraced her for a long time.

"Nein, Annachen...you're a good girl, a very good girl. It's not your fault that you live in an evil
world..."

And Anna was in peace for awhile, though confused at the things Sofie had told her. Meanwhile,
Sofie gathered the servants and gave them the harshest reprimand they had ever received---and
the bad names and whisperings were heard no more. It was one small mercy for Anna, for things
were about to get much worse.

It began one evening, after Von Seyss brought home yet another of his odd dinner companions.
It was a local street vendor, with whom Sofie had been slightly acquainted; but she had not been
allowed to speak to him all evening. Finding that both he and the doctor had suddenly disappeared
at the end of the meal, curiosity led the cook to search for them.

It happened that Sofie had heard rumours of mysterious deaths at the Heidelberg asylum as well
as in the slums---all of them occuring among the destitute mice. For this reason now, she was quite
worried as she wandered outside, in complete defiance of Von Seyss' orders to stay in the house.

Sofie walked around, hoping to catch a glimpse of her acquaintance; but suddenly she stopped, her heart
leaping in her throat---for she was sure she had heard a scream, and it had sounded like the street vendor's
voice. Afterwards, she heard Von Seyss' voice, and his maniacal laughter...

Moving away as fast and as quietly as she could, Sofie hurried back to the house as though the devil were
at her heels.

At about 3 a.m., Anna was peacefully sleeping when she felt herself being shaken awake. To her surprise,
Sofie was standing over her; the cook was dressed for travel and carrying a valise. She looked pale and
frightened.

"Anna, mein Kind," she whispered frantically. "Come with me---you've enough time to pack a bag.
I'll help you..."

"I'm going away, little one," Sofie replied urgently. "I won't be coming back. You've got to come with
me---now!"

"But...why?" Anna asked anxiously. She had never seen Sofie like this before.

"I'll explain later...just hurry, please! It's dangerous to stay here---with him!!"

Anna's jaw dropped. "No, Sofie...I won't leave Heinrich. I told you, he needs me!"

"That's right!" Sofie said bitterly. "He needs you---more than you need him! Please, child, come
with me now, before he wakes up!"

"No!" the young woman said stubbornly. "I can't leave him, and I won't! I love you, Sofie; but I can't
go with you. You leave if you like; but I'll stay here, no matter what happens!"

Sofie stared helplessly at her, but her fear won out in the end. Kissing Anna tenderly, Sofie walked
out quickly, turning for one last anguished glance at her little friend.

She fled in the night, far from her deranged employer...but with many a worried prayer for his mistress.

Needless to say, Von Seyss was quite surprised to find that Anna had prepared his breakfast.

Anna frowned as she remembered the look on Sofie's face, and her nervous behaviour. "I don't know.
She didn't like it here anymore. But she wanted me to come with her."

"Yes...but I didn't want to," Anna explained, smiling. "My place is with you, Heinrich."

"Good girl." Von Seyss sipped his coffee and winced sourly---he was missing Sofie already. But he was
quite bewildered, also, that Sofie had left without any notice...and had wanted to take Anna with her. Then
Von Seyss noticed something else that didn't seem right...

The young lady shook her head with a pained expression. She had seated herself as far from the breakfast
table as possible, and the doctor saw that she was holding her stomach.

"What's wrong?" he asked her.

"Not even a little?" This was most surprising, for Anna normally had an excellent appetite, no matter how
ill. Slicing off a bit of cheese, Von Seyss spread it over a piece of toast and brought it over to Anna, hoping
to tempt her. But Anna took one look at it and stifled a retch, then ran outside as fast as she could. The
doctor stared after her; indeed, this was a day for women to behave strangely. Yet there was something
familiar about Anna's condition...Von Seyss decided to give it no further thought, for he had enough on his
mind at the moment.

He had to hire another cook before the day was out, though, for Anna was too ill to do much of anything.
To the doctor's great chagrin, she also refused his company for the next few days, and nights...she stayed
in her room much of the time, eating but little.

It would be the least of Von Seyss' troubles. One evening, he came home from Heidelberg, and was
quite startled to find a police inspector and two constables in his sitting room. However, he managed
to hide his emotions with his usual efficiency; receiving his visitors cordially, he asked them to state
their business.

There had been a report, the inspector explained, of suspicious activities on the grounds of the doctor's
estate; he asked, furthermore, that he and the constables be allowed to search the premises. Inwardly
afraid, but outwardly obliging, Von Seyss conducted the tour himself, showing the three gentlemice every
room in the house. He was naturally embarrassed for the police to find Anna in her room; but he explained
quickly that she was his niece. Whether they believed him did not matter for the time being.

He even allowed the police to roam the grounds, having taken great care to keep the cellar entrance
hidden. Apparently finding no evidence to justify his suspicions, the inspector reluctantly left. However,
he advised Von Seyss that he would contact him again.

"I am greatly sorry to disturb your privacy, Herr Doktor," he explained, "but you understand that I must
pursue this matter until I am satisfied of your innocence. Most likely it is just a vicious rumour, but of
course we must be sure..."

"I realise that, Herr Inspector," Von Seyss replied civilly. "You are only doing your job; though I do
hope this will be resolved quite soon."

As soon as they had left, the doctor went quickly to his chambers to rest, quite unsettled at the
turn of events. This time, it was Von Seyss who could not eat that night. Desperate for comfort, he
pleaded for Anna to come to his room. Seeing her Heinrich so pale and shaken, Anna did not have
the heart to refuse him. But while she was some better, she could do no more for him than hold him
in her arms and stroke his head while Von Seyss clung to her like a frightened child, groaning piteously:

"They don't understand, Anna...they just don't understand..."

There would soon be a great deal that people did not understand...and some things that no one ever
would.

As the days passed following the police inspector's visit, public suspicion regarding the doctor's acitivites
did not die down as Von Seyss had hoped; rather, it grew. Relatives of some of the Heidelberg patients
began questioning the sudden deaths of their loved ones. Equally suspected were the disappearances of
mice in the slums, many of which had been seen leaving with Von Seyss. As rumours about the doctor
steadily increased, he finally had to take a leave of absence from the asylum. Moreover, he had to
conceal his identity whenever he went out anywhere, for people had begun to stare, point and whisper
every time he went through town.

It was while thus disguised one day that Von Seyss heard the terrifying news: that word of the many
strange deaths, and his suspected involvement in them, had now reached the palace of Kaiser Mausberg.
The Kaiser was well known for meting out harsh penalties, even for minor crimes---and Von Seyss could
quite guess what awaited him once the truth finally came out.

Meanwhile, Anna's condition had changed but little, and she was still keeping much to herself. The doctor
paid only slight attention to her during this time, for he was far too concerned about himself for the present.
He had to be; everything seemed to be closing in on him. Afraid to take further chances, he ceased his
deadly experiments during what would be his last days in Austria.

Von Seyss remembered a recent excursion to London, England. While he did not find it quite to his taste
compared to his beloved Vienna, he was fascinated by certain sections of the city---in particular, the East
End, with its foreboding atmosphere and the various classes of mice that roamed its dingy streets. With
that in mind, the doctor realised that his only hope of saving himself was to flee to London. He did not
realise, however, that his own mistress was about to complicate matters...

The new cook, Margarethe, was as kind to Anna as Sofie had been and allowed her to help in the kitchen.
However, she was aware of the young lady's relationship with Von Seyss, and observed Anna's illness
with great concern...and suspicion. Then one day while the doctor was out, Anna fainted while walking
through the parlour. Frightened, Margarethe carried her to her own room and laid her on the bed. She
had once been a nurse, and so she felt the half-conscious girl's belly and thus confirmed her fears: Anna
was pregnant.

Anna stared blankly for a few moments; then her face lit up at the prospect, and she laughed happily.

"Oh, Margarethe!" she cried joyfully. "How wonderful! Heinrich is going to be a father!"

Margarethe stared pityingly at her. My God, she thought. You don't understand what's happening,
you poor innocent little soul!

She gently took the young woman's hands. "Anna," she explained carefully, "please listen to me. You've
got to make the doctor marry you...by a minister, do you understand? He's got to give his name to the child...
if people find out what's happened, they'll take your baby away from you!"

Anna could not understand, and was quite bewildered when Margarethe explained the situation further.
Hadn't she and Heinrich been married all that time? Had Berta been right when she had called her
that terrible name?

All this, and more, had been running through Anna's mind when she came to Heinrich's room on his
last night in Vienna...the night he had tried to kill her. After all his promises, his saying that he loved
her and needed her, and after all she had done for him and given him---he had thrown her away as if
none of that had mattered.

He had been insanely angry on seeing her condition, ordering her to "get rid" of the child---whatever
that meant. But there had been something else in his face...revulsion, fear even. But why? What
did he have to be afraid of? And why hadn't he wanted his own child?

Anna could never forget look of contempt on Heinrich's face when he told her to "rot", that she was
useless to him now...nor the cruel way he had grabbed her and thrown her down the staircase. She
remembered the pain, the terror, then only darkness. Yet somewhere in that silent darkness, there had
been the sound of Heinrich's laughter...

She had awakened to find people standing all around, and a constable leaning over her. They had
carried her to a hospital, and as soon as she was recovered, the questions began: Where is Dr. Von
Seyss? Why did he do this to you? Where has he gone? Don't you know what he's done?

But she had refused to speak to the police, even to look at them. Seeing that they could get nothing
from Anna, they finally left her alone. When she felt strong enough, she got dressed and ran away
from the hospital, taking the first train she could get from Vienna. Anna recalled that Heinrich had
planned to go to England, wherever that was. She had to go there, too; she had to find Heinrich. No
matter what he was, or what he had done---even to her---she had to find him.

It had been a long and wearisome journey; but thanks to sympathetic mice she met along the way, Anna
finally found her way towards London. When she came upon a farm in the near countryside, she planned
to stop and rest only for awhile, then to continue her search.

It was late evening when John and Bess Harwicke answered the knock at their door, only to find a
young girl mouse in a most pitiable state---exhausted, dirty and ill, her dress nearly in rags. She
had begged for food and a place to sleep, then suddenly passed out. The Harwickes called their old
physician Dr. Harvey Johnson, who quickly saw that the girl was pregnant. He wished to place her
in a hospital; but the kind farm couple, understanding her situation, felt it best to nurse her back to
health themselves. The doctor was an old friend of the Harwickes, and so he reluctantly allowed
Anna to stay. In concern for her health, however, he advised them to come and fetch him once she
went into labour.

It happened that Mrs. Harwicke was of German stock and spoke the language fairly well, as
did her husband. In spite of that, they got little information from Anna at first---only that she
was Austrian, an orphan, and was not married to the baby's father. It was thought that she would
reveal more once she was rested and settled.

The Harwickes had no children. Their only son, Henry, had been recently killed while fighting in
the Boer War, and the timely arrival of the destitute girl had proved in fact a blessing for the lonely
couple. They came quickly to love her as their own child, and hoped to keep her and her baby with
them always. For the first time since the death of her parents, Anna felt as though she had truly come
home...

Yet as Anna reflected on her past with Von Seyss, she knew she could not bear to let him go...even
after his final act of abuse. It was, after all, his child in her womb, whether he wanted it or not. A part of
her soul had mingled with his, and she would always love him---even if, she thought with anguish, he
no longer loved her. But for now, there was someone else to think about...

It was two days later that Anna went into labour, with the Harwickes and Dr. Johnson attending to her.
It was indeed not an easy delivery, and Mrs. Harwicke had to hold and comfort Anna, who cried pitifully
through the ordeal. But her tears turned to laughter at the sound of the infant's first squeaks, and all the
pain seemed forgotten as her new son was placed in her arms. To the surprise and delight of the Harwickes,
she named the baby Henry.

Instinct had taught Anna a few things, and so she quickly learned how to nurse little Henry. He was an
exceptionally beautiful little boy, and the farmer and his wife were quite overjoyed to care for a child
again. Anna herself was deliriously happy, yet once again her joy was tinged with sadness; the baby
looked very much like Heinrich, and now the young mother thought of him more than ever. Her heart
ached that Von Seyss could have rejected something so beautiful and precious.

With her woman's intuition, Mrs. Harwicke could sense what was troubling Anna; and so one evening,
when the two women were alone together, the farmer's wife decided the whole truth needed to come out.

"Child," she said gently while Anna was putting Henry to sleep, "John and I are the closest thing you
have to a mother and father right now. You know you can trust us. I think it's time we talked about little
Henry's father...

"Please tell me, Anna...who gave you the baby? And what kind of life did you have with him?"

Anna, still reluctant, frowned slightly. But she thought of how the unconditional love and kindness of
the Harwickes had lifted her out of her despair, and given her strength she might never have found
again. Because of this, she sensed that no matter what, she could trust this kindly farm couple. And
she was getting so tired of running...

Sighing heavily, she told Mrs. Harwicke all about her past: her parents, Frau Wagner, her meeting
Heinrich and going home with him...and everything after that. And when Anna had finished, Mrs.
Harwicke held her close and cried for a long time...

Later that night, in the privacy of their own room, Mrs. Harwicke related Anna's sad story to her
husband. The farmer shook his head.

"That heartless devil!" he said. "He'll pay for what he did to that poor girl. But that name---
Von Seyss? Seems to me I've heard it before..."