Did you get a good look at the man who attacked you?

I've told you, it wasn't a man. It was an animal. A big wolf or something. A rabid dog.

Yes.

Look, Dr. Hirsch, I know I've been traumatized, but Jack was torn apart. I saw him. A man can't do that to someone with his bare hands.

You'd be surprised what horrors a man is capable of.

Did you see Jack?

No. In fact, your wounds were cleaned and dressed before you arrived here.

Did you talk to the police in East Proctor? Did the cops go to The Slaughtered Lamb?

I really don't know.

Then why the hell are you so quick to disbelieve me? You yourself said it must have taken incredible strength to tear apart a person like that.

David, please. The police are satisfied. I'm certain that if a monster were out roaming northern England we'd have seen it on the telly.

You really think I'm crazy, don't you?

Believe me. The Hound of the Baskervilles was an invention of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's. And if you'd read the bloody book, you'd find that Holmes discovered your hound of hell a fraud, a fake. [pause] Now really, David. You're far too intelligent to go on this way. When you return to America I want you to seek out a competent psychiatrist or psychologist or something and stop this nonsense. You'll be leaving this hospital in three or four days, please remain sane. At least until you are no longer our responsibility.