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Ten Days In A Mad-House

Creator: Nellie Bly (author)
Date: 1887
Publisher: Norman L. Munro, Publisher, New York
Source: Available at selected libraries

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108  

"I wish the reporters were here," he said at last. "They would be able to find out something about her."

109  

I got very much frightened at this, for if there is any one who can ferret out a mystery it is a reporter. I felt that I would rather face a mass of expert doctors, policemen, and detectives than two bright specimens of my craft, so I said: "I don't see why all this is needed to help me find my trunks. These men are impudent, and I do not want to be stared at. I will go away. I don't want to stay here." So saying, I pulled down my veil and secretly hoped the reporters would be detained elsewhere until I was sent to the asylum.

110  

"I don't know what to do with the poor child," said the worried judge. "She must be taken care of."

111  

"Send her to the Island," suggested one of the officers. "Oh, don't!" said Mrs. Stanard, in evident alarm. "Don't! She is a lady and it would kill her to be put on the Island." For once I felt like shaking that good woman. To think the Island was just the place I wanted to reach, and here she was trying to keep me from going there! It was very kind of her, but rather provoking under the circumstances.

112  

"There has been some foul work here," said the judge. "I believe this child has been drugged and brought to this city. Make out the papers and we will send her to Bellevue for examination. Probably in a few days the effect of the drug will pass off and she will be able to tell us a story that will be startling. If the reporters would only come!"

113  

I dreaded them, so I said something about not wishing to stay there any longer to be gazed at. Judge Duffy then told Policeman Bockert to take me to the back office. After we were seated there Judge Duffy came in and asked me if my home was in Cuba.

114  

"Yes," I replied with a smile. "How did you know?"

115  

"Oh, I knew it, my dear. Now, tell me where was it? In what part of Cuba?"

116  

"On the hacienda," I replied.

117  

"Ah," said the judge, "on a farm. Do you remember Havana?"

118  

"Si, senor," I answered; "it is near home. How did you know?"

119  

"Oh, I know all about it. Now, won't you tell me the name of your home?" he asked, persuasively.

120  

"That's what I forget," I answered, sadly. "I have a headache all the time, and it makes me forget things. I don't want them to trouble me. Everybody is asking me questions, and it makes my head worse," and in truth it did.

121  

"Well, no one shall trouble you any more. Sit down here and rest awhile," and the genial judge left me alone with Mrs. Stanard.

122  

Just then an officer come in with a reporter. I was so frightened, and thought I would be recognized as a journalist, so I turned my head away and said, "I don't want to see any reporters; I will not see any; the judge said I was not to be troubled."

123  

"Well, there is no insanity in that," said the man who had brought the reporter, and together they left the room. Once again I had a fit of fear. Had I gone too far in not wanting to see a reporter, and was my sanity detected? If I had given the impression that I was sane, I was determined to undo it, so I jumped up and ran back and forward through the office, Mrs. Stanard clinging terrified to my arm.

124  

"I won't stay here; I want my trunks! Why do they bother me with so many people?" and thus I kept on until the ambulance surgeon came in, accompanied by the judge.

CHAPTER V. PRONOUNCED INSANE.
125  

"HERE is a poor girl who has been drugged," explained the judge. "She looks like my sister, and any one can see she is a good girl. I am interested in the child, and I would do as much for her as if she were my own. I want you to be kind to her," he said to the ambulance surgeon. Then, turning to Mrs. Stanard, he asked her if she could not keep me for a few days until my case was inquired into. Fortunately, she said she could not, because all the women at the Home were afraid of me, and would leave if I were kept there. I was very much afraid she would keep me if the pay was assured her, and so I said something about the bad cooking and that I did not intend to go back to the Home. Then came the examination; the doctor looked clever and I had not one hope of deceiving him, but I determined to keep up the farce.

126  

"Put out your tongue," he ordered, briskly.

127  

I gave an inward chuckle at the thought.

128  

"Put out your tongue when I tell you," he said

129  

"I don't want to," I answered, truthfully enough.

130  

"You must. You are sick, and I am a doctor."

131  

"I am not sick and never was. I only want my trunks."

132  

But I put out my tongue, which he looked at in a sagacious manner. Then he felt my pulse and listened to the beating of my heart. I had not the least idea how the heart of an insane person beat, so I held my breath all the while he listened, until, when he quit, I had to give a gasp to regain it. Then he tried the effect of the light on the pupils of my eyes. Holding his hand within a half inch of my face, he told me to look at it, then, jerking it hastily away, he would examine my eyes. I was puzzled to know what insanity was like in the eye, so I thought the best thing under the circumstances was to stare. This I did. I held my eyes riveted unblinkingly upon his hand, and when he removed it I exerted all my strength to still keep my eyes from blinking.

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