The Mad Doctor of London

A Great Mouse Detective Pastiche

By E. Grimes

Rated PG-13 (15)

© 2003 by E. Grimes. No part of this pastiche (including characters) may be used in any manner without permission.

Quote from Jekyll & Hyde: The Musical © 1997 by Atlantic Recording Corporation.

Original character of Inspector Vole ©1958 by the Estate of Eve Titus; Pastiched Character © 2000
by Diane Tran. My thanks to Diane for permission to use the character and for her kind assistance.

Character of "Arséne Lupine" inspired by original character of Arséne Lupin, © 1905 by Maurice LeBlanc.

In Part VIII: Having assumed his new identity as Basil's "twin", Von Seyss resumes his vengeful attacks
upon the mice of London's East End. Ironically, his next victim is a former member of Professor Ratigan's
gang, a troublemaking drunkard named Percy Braithwaite. Spotting "Basil"--Von Seyss--in a local pub,
the thug starts a fight with him and is soon ejected from the tavern. Seeking revenge for his humiliation,
Braithwaite follows Von Seyss to his flat---and eventually, to his own death.

Later on, however, Basil has a confusing encounter with the owner of the pub. He soon discovers the
horrifying truth that the murderous Austrian doctor is committing his crimes in Basil's own guise, making
the situation far more complicated and dangerous for everyone involved. For the detective, it is only the
beginning of a nightmare.

Having been wounded in the final struggle with Percy Braithwaite, Von Seyss concludes that he can no
longer conduct his deadly experiments in his quarters. Thereafter--still disguised as Basil--he randomly
selects his victims out in the streets and injects them with his plant serums. The latest subject for his cruel
experiments is Lucy McNab, a prostitute known to Basil. Desperate for money, the woman recklessly
goes out into the streets late one night, only to be lured into an alley and drugged by Von Seyss.

Unfortunately, Basil and Dawson are in the East End about this time---to find Lucy in a crazed state just
after Von Seyss has left the scene. Naturally, Lucy believes that Basil is the culprit and attacks him when
he tries to assist her. A crowd has witnessed this; so has a local policeman, who immediately arrests the
detective.

Having been brought to Scotland Yard, Basil now faces the painful stigma of being branded a criminal
and the frightening experience of prison---but worse, the fact that Von Seyss is still out on the streets
seeking more victims, with Basil helpless to stop him...

Part IX: Behind The Façade

There's a beast at the door
And he's wild and free
But we don't let him in
'Cause we don't want to see
What is working right behind the façade!

Man is not one, but two
He is evil and good
And he walks the fine line
That he'd cross if he could...

~~~from Jekyll and Hyde: The Musical

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

IT WOULD BE needless to describe the shock and outrage at Scotland Yard when Basil of Baker Street
was brought in with his wrists manacled--but it was a veritable tea party compared to the reception waiting
for him inside of the gaol.

"Cor stone me! Looky who they brung in 'ere, chaps!" shouted a mouse prisoner with malicious glee, the
minute Basil was led through the door.

"An' 'ow's 't feel ter be one o' us, MISTAH Basil??!" sneered another.

"Best put him in an empty cell," a mouse bobby warned the guard, as he removed Basil's cuffs and outer
clothing. "Mr. Basil won't be safe around these blokes."

Basil didn't intend to argue. But his hearing had no protection; and once the door to his cell was slammed shut,
it was all the detective could do to keep his composure (and his dignity) amid the derisive hoots, catcalls and
threats from his gaol mates---many of whom were all too familiar to him.

"Wish they'd put yer in wit' me," snarled a large, mean mouse as he glared dangerously at Basil from a cell
across the way. "Oi'd smash that 'an'some face o' yers roight against these bars, Pretty Boy!"

A good many of the prisoners would also have welcomed that chance. Even among other criminals, it seemed,
Basil found no sympathy. But he set his jaw firmly and sat down in the farthest corner of his cell, where he
stared silently at the floor and tried his best to ignore the insults and sneers.

"I sy, d'tective---they're sying ye're a murderah," smirked a mouse pickpocket in an adjoining cell. "Guess
ye ain't th' saint ye 'pears t' be, eh?"

"Don't make 'im mad, Clancy," put in his cellmate, chuckling. " 'e might try t' croak you next!"

"Oh, but ah'm soooooo scared!" whined Clancy mockingly, as he fell to his knees in feigned terror. "Oh,
please don't 'urt me, bad, bad Mistah Basil!" He and the other prisoners roared with vicious laughter, while
Basil sat biting his lip angrily.

"Quiet, you imbeciles!" snapped a voice from a cell on the other side.

Clancy and his cellmate looked startled, then fell silent---as did much of the gaol. Basil, equally surprised,
stared at all of them. He wondered what there was in the voice to command such respect, aside from its tone.
But there was something familiar about it as well...

He glanced over to the cell on his left; leaning against the wall was a lone mouse who, unlike his fellows, was
fairly well-dressed and seemed to have kept his surroundings cleaner. Basil studied him discreetly--his neighbour
appeared to be about forty and somewhat strong, with an air of confidence and authority about him. Undoubtedly
the 'leader' around here, the detective assumed, taking note of the prisoner's shrewd but sharp eyes as he stared
down the other mice. They backed away, some quite nervously, and now seemed to ignore Basil. He suspected
that the prisoner had, like himself, purposely been housed alone--but not as much for his own protection as that
of the others.

"It seems, Mr. Basil, that even here you cannot resist playing the detective," the gentlemouse said quietly, turning
to him slowly with a slight smile on his lips.

Basil was startled, for he thought his scrutiny had not been noticed. "I suppose not," he sighed at last. "I ask
your pardon, sir...I hadn't meant to stare. It has long been my nature to observe."

The gentlemouse gave a hearty laugh. " 'Sir' ?? Come now, detective; your mind is much quicker than that--
you might have remembered me well enough to dispense with any honorific titles. I believe we had the dubious
pleasure of meeting before...and under quite different circumstances."

Basil had wondered why the prisoner's suave manner seemed so familiar; he needed only to study him a few
seconds to recognise the criminal as an international jewel thief from one of his earlier cases.

"Arsène Lupine?? What brings you here?" he exclaimed, standing up eagerly, as though he were meeting with
an old friend.

"The usual business, of course," Lupine said pleasantly.

"Of course," Basil replied, smiling stiffly. "Our paths crossed a good while back; and you were quite the cagey
sort, as I recall. I'd been following news of your activities since that time; but a far more urgent case has held
my attention these days."

"I'm not surprised...those nasty incidents in the East End have quite stolen my thunder. They have taken the
public's attention far from my own larcenous exploits," Lupine sighed with mock sadness. "Yet might I ask
why The Sherlock Holmes of the Mouse World now sits behind bars?"

"Obviously, the word has gone around---I've been accused of the attacks in the East End," Basil replied
bitterly. "But I'm innocent!"

A chorus of derisive guffaws burst out from the other prisoners. Basil glared daggers at them.

"What's so blasted amusing about that?" he demanded angrily. He glanced irritably at Lupine, for even
the jewel thief was laughing.

"Don't you understand, detective? We're all 'innocent' here," Lupine replied with a rogueish wink.

When the laughter had died down, the mouse detective sighed wearily. "Then it appears you don't believe
me either, Lupine."

"I didn't say that," Lupine answered mildly. "In fact, I do believe you, if that's any consolation. But it's the
Yard you'll need to convince, not I."

"Yes...and therein lies the problem," Basil said darkly, as he sat back down on his cot.

"Tell 'em ye're a lunatic," suggested one of the other prisoners. "Th'n 't least they cahn't 'ang yer!"

"Lunatic, indeed!" the detective returned angrily. "Thank you, no."

The mouse shrugged. "Well... 't's yeer neck, guv'nah."

Basil clenched his teeth and resumed his stare at the floor. "I am not insane," he insisted. "And I should
rather hang than to be thought so!"

"No, Mistur Basul, you're not insane."

The detective's head shot up at the familiar nasal tone, and he glanced through the bars to find Inspector
Vole walking toward his cell--seeming to pay no mind to the hooting and uncomplimentary murmurs of
the other prisoners.

"I came as soon as I heard," Vole said, obviously concerned.

Basil raised an eyebrow but chose to make no reply to the remark. He walked quietly up to the bars
and stood facing Vole. "Well, Vole? Do you believe I'm guilty, too?"

"No," Vole answered firmly, "and I'll do everything in my power to prove your innocence. Meanwhile,"
he said with a wry smile, looking around at the other inmates, "I see you've at least managed to make
friends."

Lupine strode up to his own cell door and shot a sly grin at the inspector. "Good evening to you, 'Uncle',"
he said pleasantly.

Vole simply stared through him. "You will sit down immediately, Monsieur Lupine. Your own affair
will be dealt with in due time."

The jewel thief seemed to ignore the request at first, leering at the inspector with a defiant smirk. Vole
returned the look sternly. Finally, Lupine gave a half chuckle and walked back to his cot.

"I'm sure it will be, Monsieur," he said sardonically, as he calmly lit a cigarette.

Vole gave him a withering glare, but soon turned his attention back to Basil.

"Which brings to mind yet another reason for my visit, Mr. Basil," he continued. "I am anxious to speak to
you regarding this evening's incident; fortunately, I am permitted to conduct our interview elsewhere--" he
shot a discreet glare at Lupine--"and well out of your gaol mates' hearing."

"Well, I won't argue with you, Vole--lead the way," Basil replied with a tired smile; though in a sense, he
was sorry to leave the fascinating Lupine, who had at least made the situation bearable. As the gaoler
unlocked Basil's cell, the mouse detective turned to the jewel thief.

"Good luck, Monsieur Lupine," he said in a low voice. The gentlemouse bandit gave a short laugh, and
a gracious bow of his head.

"Merci, mon ami," he replied, "but like you, I rely upon my wits--not luck. And when you catch up with
that lunatic, my dear detective," he called as Basil was walking away, "give him a proper thrashing for me--
as reward for spoiling my career!"

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

In the meantime, Dawson--feeling unable to help Basil otherwise--had gone to visit Lucy McNab at the
hospital. She had still been hysterical upon her arrival, and so she had been tied to her bed to prevent any
injury to herself--or anyone else. Meanwhile, the doctors present had been unable to determine the cause
of her piteous state. However, Dawson was as well acquainted with the young woman as Basil, so he was
able to assure the physicians that Lucy was quite sane and persuade them to release her. But there were
drops of blood present on her dress, and so a quick examination revealed a needle wound in her shoulder--
suggesting that Lucy had been drugged.

Whatever had been injected into her, the dose was fortunately not fatal--perhaps not intended to be; Von
Seyss had likely assumed that Lucy would, like Hubert Downing and some of the others, bring about her
own demise. Instead, like Emma Tilbury, she would become one of the doctor's few surviving victims. It
was some time, however, before Lucy could begin to think clearly. She was relieved to see Dr. Dawson at
her side; but certainly bewildered and frightened over her ordeal. At Dawson's gentle urging, the woman
gave all the details she could remember of the bizarre incident.

"'at d'tective didn't come with yeh, did 'e?" she asked tremulously, feeling she could never bear to look at
Basil again.

"No, my dear," the doctor replied. "I'm afraid Basil is in gaol."

Lucy began to cry. "Ah 'ope 'e rots in 'ere," she sobbed. "Ah thought ah cud trust 'im..."

Dawson frowned sadly--this would not be an easy situation to solve. "You can, Miss McNab," he promised
her. "Basil would never harm you, nor any woman. It was someone else who did this terrible thing to you;
but it is Basil who is suffering for it right now."

"But," Lucy insisted, shaking her head, " 'f twasn't Mistah Basil, who woz it? 'e looked like Mistah Basil! 'e
even talked like 'im..." She shuddered at the memory of the brutal incident, yet was puzzled as she suddenly
remembered something in Von Seyss' parting words to her.

" 'cept 'e called me somethin' ," she went on, "some funny name, aftah 'e stuck me wit' 'at needle. Ah nevah
'eard Mistah Basil talk t' me like 'at b'fore..."

"But what did he call you, my dear?" Dawson asked, sensing yet another piece to the strange puzzle.

" 't sounded loike...leeb-sen, leeb-shoon...'e was talkin' loike a Guhmun bloke when 'e walked awf..."

At this, the doctor leaned quickly forward and took the young lady's paw. " 'Liebchen' ??" he suggested.
"And he talked like a German fellow, you say?"

Lucy nodded in surprise. "Aye, suh!" she answered, then winced as she clutched her head. "Ah'm sorry,
doc...cahn't 'elp ye no more, me 'ead's killin' me..."

Dawson smiled gratefully. "That's all right, my dear. You've helped enough. And believe me, Miss McNab;
the person who did this is not Basil. He is a pitifully deranged mouse who is going around harming people
like yourself. He's disguised himself as Basil in order to make his victims trust him..."

"But...why would 'e want ter 'urt me?" Lucy asked, almost tearfully.

"That's what we intend to find out, my dear. Meanwhile," he said, as he rose from the bedside, "I'm off to
see how Basil is faring. And after you are well," he finished in a fatherly tone, "please, child, I beg of you--
stay off of the streets. You shouldn't have been out there to begin with."

Lucy nodded painfully, feeling now that it might have been better to go hungry for the night.

Dawson pressed a few sovereigns into her paw. "That should take care of you for awhile, dear," he
said pleasantly. "And thank you most kindly--you've helped Basil and I more than you know."

Lucy smiled as the doctor rose. "Thank 'ee, doc. An'..." She bowed her head, blushing with shame.
"Please tell Mistah Basil...ah'm sorry ah scratched 'im an' got 'im put in gaol..."

"It'll be all right, my dear--I promise," Dawson assured her. "And now, I'll leave you to get some rest."

As he left the hospital, the kind mouse surgeon felt a bit more hopeful about clearing Basil's reputation. He
had no doubt, any more than his friend, that the maniacal Von Seyss had attacked Lucy in Basil's guise.
Now that Lucy was aware of the truth, it might help to prove the detective's innocence. But there must be
more evidence, Dawson thought, to account for Basil's whereabouts the night of the attack...or at least
something to put reasonable doubt in the minds of the public.

In the meantime, Basil was likely still in prison and wondering where Dawson had gone to; and so the doctor
went out in search of a hansom cab, or any carriage going toward Scotland Yard.

As he passed the Thistle 'n' Rose Pub, however, a familiar voice hailed him.

"Oi there! Doctah Dawson, wait a bit!"

It was Josh, the barkeep, who had spoken with Dawson and Basil four days ago. Dawson stopped as Josh
came running toward him, his normally cheerful face now troubled and confused.

"Why, what is it, Josh?" Dawson asked when the barkeep caught up. He was almost middle-aged and not
well used to running, and so he was out of breath for some moments.

"I say, Doc," he panted, "is it true that Mister Basil's in gaol?"

Dawson nodded unhappily. "I'm sorry to say he is, Josh...in fact, I'm on my way to visit him."

The barkeep shook his head, more in confusion than disagreement. "But that cahn't be, Doc," he
replied. "I jus' saw Mister Basil sittin' in me pub again, not quite an hour ago."

The doctor's jaw dropped. "What?? Are you quite certain of that, Josh?"

"Just as sure of it 's ah was 'few nights ago," Josh insisted. "T'was Mister Basil, 'n that cape an' deerstalkah
'e always wears--plain as th' nose on me face!"

A coach going in the direction of the Yard had slowed down, and so Dawson asked Josh to accompany
him. As the coach went on its way, the barkeep went on with his story about seeing 'Basil' inside of the
tavern.

" 'e walked into th' place an' sat down," he recalled, "an' asked fer that fancy cognac again--just like 'e did
b'fore. Then 'e started t'drinkin' it, but we was all starin' at 'im--for we'd 'eard The Yard 'ad gotten a'old of
'im, on account o' what 'appened t' poor lil' Lucy.

"Then, 'e looked up at us suddenly, kind of frownin', and he says: 'What are yeh all lookin' at?' Ah asked 'im,
'Mister Basil, when did ye get out o' gaol?' 'Ah beg yer pardon, sir?' 'e asked, looking right stahtled. 'Yeh went
t' gaol, din't ye?' says one o' th' customers. 'We thought they locked ye up fer roughin' up some tart up th' street.'

"When 'e 'eard th' bloke say that, Mister Basil stahted lookin' right pale in th' face. 'e mumbled somethin' like,
'Somebody's lyin', ah ain't been near no bloody 'ore!' " Josh shook his head. "T'isn't like Mister Basil t' talk like
that...but anyway, 'e just gulped down 'is drink, paid me an' walked out, lookin' rahther scared..."

He glanced curiously at Dawson, for the doctor was beaming in triumph at his words.

"Believe me, dear friend," Dawson informed him, "you're in for quite a surprise...and, I think, so is Scotland
Yard!"

Meanwhile, Basil was discussing the fateful night's activities with Inspector Vole, in addition explaining his
suspicions and the finer points of his investigation of Von Seyss. Vole assured the detective that he was
more than convinced of his innocence; yet the stark similarity between Basil and the insane doctor's disguise
was quite a damning one indeed. Only the word of a witness other than Dawson--who was Basil's friend
and partner and therefore a dubious witness indeed--might help to prove that Basil had been nowhere near
Lucy McNab the moment she was being attacked. However, there was the lack of strong evidence in question;
Miss McNab had, after all, been the only witness at the time.

"Meanwhile," Vole suggested pleasantly, "perhaps we could persuade my superiors to let you return home
for the time being--keeping you under careful watch, of course?"

"I should certainly not mind sleeping in my own bed tonight," Basil replied wearily; though he was deeply
troubled that now the Yard could interfere with his work, or perhaps completely spoil it for good--and
Von Seyss might never be caught. But Vole promised that he would comply as best he could, anxious
himself to bring the murderous Austrian to justice.

As the two were leaving the inspector's office, the sound of familiar voices out in the environs quickly
caught their attention. Dawson, with Josh in tow, had just arrived at The Yard and was pleading to be
allowed to see Basil.

"Well, it's about time you came to visit, Dawson," Basil said pleasantly, grateful to see his friend again.
But his eyebrows shot up in surprise at the sight of Josh--who stood equally stunned when he saw the
detective.

"Blimey," breathed the barkeep. "Mister Basil...yeh were locked up, weren't ye?"

"Most assuredly, Josh," Basil replied, with a stiff smile at everyone present, "and I've any number of mice
here who can testify to that fact."

Several of the policemice laughed at this, but Josh was now very much confused.

"Sy, what is 'is about, chaps?" he blurted.

"You'll see," Dawson said, smiling encouragingly. "Now, my good fellow, tell these good gentlemice here
what you have just told me..."

It was the turn of Vole and the rest of the Yard to be astounded when the barkeep related his story of
seeing Basil's impostor at the Thistle 'n' Rose--not only that night, but some nights before.

"Ah'll swear it on me mothah''s grave, Inspectah," Josh insisted. "Th' bloke looked and talked just like Mister
Basil! An' now th't I remembah, 'e still 'ad th' bruise on 'is face from th' other night..." He frowned at Basil
suddenly. "Mister Basil, why did yeh tell me that might 'ave been you that other time?"

"I must apologise now, Josh...it wasn't," Basil replied, sighing wearily but with relief. "I'll explain it to you
later on."

"In addition," Dawson told Vole, "I spoke with Miss McNab at the hospital. She remembered that her attacker
was speaking German at the last. The fellow imitating Basil is Austrian, and why would Basil speak anything but
the Queen's English to Miss McNab? I hope, Vole, that there is little doubt left of my friend's innocence..."

Vole chuckled. "As far as I'm concerned, there was little doubt in the first place...only the need to account for
your friend's whereabouts. But seeing that our illustrious detective has an insidious 'twin' somewhere in the city,
there is certainly enough doubt of the matter to release him and leave him free to pursue the case. I trust you've
no complaint, Mr. Basil?"

"None whatsoever, Vole. And I shall try hereafter to be on my best behaviour," the detective said, smiling
mischievously.

But as the three mice left to fetch a cab, Basil cautioned Josh not to let anyone know he had been released for the
time being. Von Seyss' reaction at hearing of his supposed 'arrest' suggested that casting suspicion upon Basil was
apparently not what the insane doctor had in mind--for his disguise as the detective was by now quite necessary in
acquiring new victims. To scandalise Basil's career would be to threaten his own; therefore, Von Seyss would have
to lie low until given reason to believe that his actions would go undetected. Since Basil certainly could not risk
another arrest, he decided that it would not be wise to go out in his usual dress. Keeping in mind his own art of
disguise, the detective felt that perhaps another masquerade might be in order...

In the meantime, he was relieved to be returning to his home--and that, for one night at least, London might sleep
a little safer.

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

Von Seyss sat at his dressing table, nursing a bottle of cognac and still trembling over the awkward business at
the tavern.

That cursed detective! Why did he have to show up in the East End tonight?? he brooded. How can I
carry out my work in peace? That filthy little trollop must have said something...I should have just killed
her right there in that alley!

Then the realisation struck him--yes, that had been his mistake: some of the mice injected with his plant serums
had survived; as he presumed, to meet their ends by running into traffic, drowning in the Thames or by other
means appearing to be either accident or suicide. But it occurred to Von Seyss that he could not always
count upon his reluctant 'guinea pigs' to cause their own deaths. And what if one of them survived...to talk?

"Then we can't have that, can we?" Von Seyss whispered aloud, a cold smile forming on his lips. Indeed
not...in future, the mice he injected must not be allowed to live--not even for one minute. He would have
to dispatch them quickly and cleanly, by whatever method presented itself.

But first, there was that unpleasant matter of Basil's arrest. Von Seyss was quite unwilling to cast off his
disguise, finding his close resemblance to the detective far too effective in deceiving the public. Yet he
could take no advantage of it as long as Basil remained a suspect; therefore, it must appear as if someone
other than the detective would fall under suspicion. That would not be the difficult part...

The difficulty would be that once Von Seyss was free to continue his deadly work, Basil would hunt him
relentlessly. The mouse detective was as famous in Austria and the rest of the world as he was in England;
so intelligent and resourceful was Basil in his methods, that it would only be a matter of time until he caught
up with the Austrian doctor--and end his mission to purify Mousedom for good and all...

Well...one couldn't have that, either.

He looked up from his glass of cognac, his reflection in the mirror meeting his eyes. The doctor stared,
as if mesmerised, at the face in the glass--the face that looked so much like Basil's. Very much, indeed.
Which presented yet another possibilty...

It was at that moment, while waiting to plot his next move in the East End, that Dr. Von Seyss began to
make certain and permanent plans for Basil of Baker Street...and as the ideas flowed like poison through
the Austrian's twisted mind, the hideous laughter that had long been part of him pierced the room's silence.

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

It was some hours before dawn that Anna Heinstoffer sat on her bed, cuddling little Henry and staring off
into space. Beside her was a bundle holding a fresh dress, a small prayerbook and some food...all of them
packed in haste.

Anna had slept little that night, for a great deal was weighing on her mind. The Harwickes had noticed how
preoccupied she'd been the past few days; Anna had assured them that all was well, but secretly she could
not believe it herself. For even in her simplicity, the young mother had become well aware of both society's
prejudice...and its cruelty. Since Henry's birth, Anna had lived with a growing anxiety that the only happiness
she'd really known might soon be snatched away.

She gazed down tenderly at the innocent child sleeping in her arms. Anna's eyes shone with love, but were
stinging with tears as she remembered what the cook Margarethe had told her back in Vienna...that the baby
might be taken from her. For with no husband or any real family, what chance did she have? And who could
trust a simpleton to raise a child?

She thought of the Harwickes and their kindness...how they had so much, a good home and plenty of food--
but they had lost their son. They must be so lonely, she thought. And I know I can't take care of little Henry;
because I'm too stupid and I don't have anybody. Besides, I have to find Heinrich...maybe when he sees
that I still love him, his heart will change. But he doesn't want the baby--so I can't take it with me...

Having considered all this, Anna soon realised what she would have to do.

With the infant in one arm, and grabbing up the bundle in the other, she quietly left her room and crept into
the Harwickes' bedroom. Grateful to find the couple sound asleep, Anna put a note she had hastily scribbled
out onto the bedside table; then kissing Henry one last time, she laid him next to Bess.

"Lebewohl, mein liebes Kind," she whispered in a choked voice, her face wet with bitter tears.

Then she turned and left, unable to bear even a backward glance at what had been her family for too brief a
time. Down the stairs she went, then out into the foggy darkness of the English countryside...feeling as though
her soul had been torn in half, and uncertain of what awaited her in the streets of London.

End Part IX