"
I began my account by saying that I was not convinced. How could I be
convinced?
At the same time I have none of those explanations with which people
are so generously forthcoming on these occasions. I can only say that I
do not think Wilbraham was insane, nor drunk, nor asleep. Nor do I
believe that some one played a practical joke....
Whether Wilbraham was insane between the hours when his visitor left
him and his entrance into the nursing home I must leave to my readers.
I myself think he was not.
After all, everything depends upon the relative importance that we
place upon ambitions, possessions, emotions,--ideas.
Something suddenly became of so desperate an importance to Wilbraham
that nothing else at all mattered. He wanted every one else to see the
importance of it as he did. That is all....
It had been a hot and oppressive day; London had seemed torrid and
uncomfortable. The mere fact that Oxford street was "up" annoyed him.
After a slight meal in his flat he went to the Promenade Concert at
Queen's Hall. It was the second night of the season--Monday night,
Wagner night.
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