Doctor Who_ Camera Obscura - Lloyd Rose [13]
‘She’s a con woman,’ said Anji dismissively. ‘They always do.’
‘But she did read my mind. So why would she need to fake anything?’
‘I – ah, hello, Dr Chiltern. How’s the patient?’
Anji and Fitz turned. Chiltern’s tall, frock-coated figure was silhouetted in the doorway. He looked uncertainly at the Doctor on the table. ‘I left her with Mrs Hemming for the moment. Everyone else has gone, and I wanted to talk to all the witnesses to her... attack. May I ask what it is you’re doing?’
‘Looking for evidence of fraud.’
‘A hoax?’ Chiltern stepped forward. Fitz handed him the thread. He fingered it, frowning. Fitz thought he looked disappointed. ‘Well,’ he said finally, ‘it is the usual thing.’
‘I’m not so sure,’ said the Doctor. He put a hand on Fitz’s shoulder and took a long step down to the floor. ‘At least, not quite the usual thing. Whatever the true nature of her talent, I think Miss Jane honestly believes in it.’
* * *
At Chiltern’s request, Dr Smith stayed to help him see to Miss Jane. Smith sent his friends home. An oddly assorted bunch, Chiltern thought, but he hadn’t time to wonder about them now. He sat on a chair pulled up beside his unconscious patient. Chiltern sat on a chair pulled up beside her. Smith stood at her head. Chiltern had sent Mrs Hemming for warm towels and a blanket – he disliked ordering her about in her own home, but as she had dismissed the maid for the seance evening, there was nothing else for it.
‘Usually, a hoaxer in this sort of situation is an adolescent,’ he said. ‘It is traditional, if such a word can be used about these episodes. The so-called haunting of the Wesley family. The Blair Witch case in America.’
‘Phylemeda never left the parlour all evening,’ said the Doctor. ‘She wouldn’t have had time to set this up.’
Chiltern exhaled deeply. ‘Yes, I noticed that myself.’ He rose as Mrs Hemming came back into the room. ‘Thank you. Now, if you will allow me to use you as a nurse, please loosen the young woman’s clothing and apply the heat. The Throat, the wrists, the stomach –’
Mrs Hemming blushed. ‘Yes,’ she said quickly, ‘I understand.’
‘And then cover her securely with the blanket. We will wait in the hall.’
The hallway was dim and chilly. Chiltern lit a cigarette and turned up the gas. He caught a glimpse of himself in the large, gilt-framed mirror. He looked exhausted.
‘This is the sort of thing you’ve been looking for,’ said Smith softly, ‘isn’t it?’
Chiltern drew pensively on his cigarette. ‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘Not to be cold-blooded, but I think it may be.’
‘You think this isn’t spirit possession but something natural to the mind?’
‘Not natural in the sense of common, perhaps. But intrinsic to the mind, yes.’
‘Have you ever had a medium as a patient?’
‘No – although, as I mentioned, I’ve attended a number of seances. Many mediums are simply fakes, of course. But I’ve wondered about the ones who were obviously sincere.’
‘Have you ever thought that cases such as this might be... I’m not sure what the correct term would be. A hysterical dissociation of personality.’
‘Yes,’ said Chiltern excitedly. ‘There are cases in literature – not many. The so-called “split personality”, which is a misnomer arising from sensational literature – the disturbance is nothing like Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde. It wouldn’t surprise me if Miss Jane’s condition turned out to be something of the sort.’
‘You believe it’s a form of hysteria?’
‘Well, you’ve studied Charcot. You know what the mind can do. Most of us have moods or moments of which we say, “I wasn’t myself.” It’s only a short step from there actually to not being oneself.’ Chiltern began to pace. ‘When you read the works of Dickens or Shakespeare, or when you see an actor give a succession of utterly convincing depictions of totally different characters – you’re observing something right on the edge of a true splintering of the one into many. This ‘split personality’, so-called, is probably only an abnormal extension of the same quality. We are potentially many selves, but most of us only