_Captive_
Mary Louise was not far away from Shady Nook in the matter of miles, but
she felt as if she were worlds away. Everything was strangely different
from anything she had ever known--grotesque and terrible. For the place
she was taken to was an asylum for the insane!
Little did she think as she entered the Adams' farmhouse that afternoon
that her freedom was to be snatched from her. That she was to be held in
hopeless captivity, without any means of communication with the outside
world. A prisoner in a house that was far worse than a jail, enduring a
life that was living death!
When no one answered her knock at the Adams' door that afternoon, she
opened the screen and walked in, calling first Hattie and then Rebecca by
name. Finally the latter replied.
"I'm up here, sick abed!" called the woman. "Who be you?"
"It's Mary Louise," she answered. "May I come up and see you, Rebecca?"
"Yes, yes. Come! Have you found a well of clear water?"
Mary Louise laughed to herself as she ran up the stairs. She wished that
she could find some well water for the poor deluded woman, but there was
none in the vicinity. She wondered what Rebecca would do if she ever did
discover a well.
She entered the bedroom, smiling and shaking her head at the poor eager
creature.
"No, Rebecca--not yet. But I'll find you one some day. How are you
feeling?"
"I'm better. I want to get out soon. Will you get me a drink of water,
Mary Louise?"
"Certainly," replied the girl. "From the kitchen?"
"Yes. From the kitchen."
The woman sank back on her pillow, and Mary Louise went for the water.
When she returned, Rebecca was half asleep.
"Here's your water, Rebecca," she said. "But where is Hattie?"
"I don't know. Gone away, I guess. They've all gone away.... Soon I'll go
too...." Her voice trailed off as if she were half dreaming, and Mary
Louise walked to the door. She heard the sound of a car in the driveway
below, and hoping that it might be Hattie, she went down the stairs.
But the car standing in front of the house was not the dilapidated Ford
that belonged to the Adams family. It was a big black limousine which
reminded Mary Louise of a hearse or a funeral carriage, and she
shuddered. It might have been an ambulance, but ambulances were usually
white. She wondered what a car like that could be doing at the Adams
farm.
Two men got down from the driver's seat in front, and Tom Adams came and
joined them at the porch steps. They talked in low tones to each other.
Mary Louise opened the screen door and came out on the porch. Suddenly
she heard her own name mentioned, and a cold chill of horror crept up her
spine. What were they planning to do to her?
"She says she's Mary Louise Gay," remarked Tom. "Insists on it. And she
does look like a girl by that name. But don't believe her. She's my
sister Rebecca." He raised his eyes and looked straight at Mary Louise.
"Hello, Rebecca!" he said. "We're going to take you for a ride!"
Mary Louise's brown eyes flashed in anger.
"Rebecca's upstairs, sick in bed," she retorted. "Go and see for
yourselves."
Suddenly, with the agility of panthers, the two men sprang forward and
grabbed Mary Louise's wrists.
"Come along, Rebecca," one of them said. "No use struggling. We're taking
you to a nice farm."
With a desperate effort to free herself from the men's grasp, Mary Louise
kicked one of her captors in the leg. He let go of her hand, but the
other man held her tightly.
"Wild little beast," he remarked. "Now, sister, you take it easy. We
ain't going to hurt you. You'll like it where you're going--you'll get
better care than you do here. Your brother says there's nobody here to
look after you now that your mother's gone."
"He's not my brother!" shouted Mary Louise. "And I can prove it! Just
drive down to Shady Nook--a couple of miles--and ask anybody!"
But the men preferred to ignore this challenge; they picked Mary Louise
up bodily and thrust her into the back of the limousine, shutting the
door and turning the key in the lock!
She found herself sitting on a long seat that ran the length of the car.
There were no windows on the side; only two tiny oval glasses in the back
door permitted a little light to enter the enclosure. Before she could
utter another sound she heard the engine start, and the vehicle went into
motion. Over the rough, stony driveway, onto the dirt road that led away
from the farm, in the opposite direction from Shady Nook.
Mary Louise's first impulse was to scream as loudly as she could in the
hope of attracting the notice of the occupants of some passing car or of
some farmer working in his field. But second consideration told her that
such a proceeding would do her no good at all. As soon as those men in
the front seat explained that she was a crazy person being taken to an
insane asylum, nobody would believe anything she said.
The realization of this fact brought a deathly hopelessness to her whole
body. Her arms and legs felt inert, her head sank back against the
cushion as if her very spirit were flowing away. Leaving her
helpless--and finished with life.
For perhaps ten minutes she sat thus, unmindful of the country through
which she was being driven. As if she had been stunned by a physical blow
and no aid were near.
Then suddenly she thought of Tom Adams, and a fierce anger took
possession of her, reviving her spirits, bringing her back to life. She
would not give up! She would fight to the bitter end; she'd make him
pay--and pay heavily--for his diabolical cruelty!
She moved along the seat to the far end of the car and peered through the
tiny window. The road over which they were passing was narrow and rough;
the country unfamiliar. It was not a main highway, Mary Louise instantly
concluded, and she wondered in which direction it lay from Shady Nook.
She wished now that she had watched it from the beginning. She did not
even know whether they had crossed the river or not.
"Still, I suppose that doesn't really matter," she thought. "Because, if
I can manage to get away at all, I can easily find my family. They'll be
hunting for me." Tears of distress came to her eyes as she pictured her
mother's anguish. And her father was so far away!
"Why did I ever try to be a detective?" she groaned. "The punishment is
too horrible. Mother and Daddy would rather lose their cottage and have
the whole settlement at Shady Nook burned than have me endure torture
like this!"
On and on they went through the lonely, unpopulated country. Time seemed
to stand still; it was as if the afternoon were to last forever. Yet when
Mary Louise glanced at her wristwatch she saw that it was not yet five
o'clock!
They crossed over a little stream, and the car turned at an angle and
climbed a hill. Up, up they went, until they reached a narrow road at the
summit. Looking down into the valley below Mary Louise could see a
stream--not as wide as the river--winding its peaceful way in the summer
sunshine. It was a beautiful spot--if you could enjoy beauty. But it
meant nothing at all to the unhappy girl.
"That looks like a main road across the valley on the opposite side of
the stream," she thought. "If I can escape, I'll make for that. Thank
goodness I know how to swim!"
She wished that she had thought to glance at her watch when the car
started, so that she could roughly judge the distance from Shady Nook by
the time it took to cover it. But she had been so miserable that she
could not tell whether she had been riding twenty minutes or a couple of
hours.
At last, however, the car came to a stop at a high iron gate which
reminded Mary Louise of a penitentiary. So this was the way they guarded
feeble-minded people!
One of the men got down from his seat, took a key from his pocket to
unlock the gate, and swung the heavy iron doors open. When the car had
gone through he locked them securely behind him.
A shiver of horror passed over Mary Louise as she heard that final click.
A sense of hopelessness overpowered her to such an intense degree that
she felt physically sick. A life of utter emptiness was closing her in,
as if her mind and her soul had been extracted from her body. How much
more fiendish her existence would be than that of any ordinary victim of
kidnapers! But then, Tom Adams had not kidnaped her because he wanted a
ransom, but only because he desired to get rid of her. Well, he had
succeeded! Nobody in the whole world would think of looking for her in an
insane asylum.
The car wound around a lovely driveway, shaded by trees, and stopped in
front of a long, low plaster building that appeared to be at least a
hundred years old. A man and a woman came out of the ivy-covered door as
the driver unlocked the back of the limousine.
With her head held high in defiance, Mary Louise stepped out.
"How do you do, Rebecca," greeted the woman, a plain-faced person of
about fifty, in a gray dress.
"There has been a ghastly mistake!" announced Mary Louise, trying to keep
her tone dignified. "Tom Adams is a criminal, and because I found him out
he has sent me here, calling me his feeble-minded sister. I am not
Rebecca Adams--but Mary Louise Gay!"
The man and the woman exchanged significant glances.
"Mr. Adams warned us that you would say that," replied the man. "He said
you do look like a girl named Mary Louise Gay. But try to forget it,
Rebecca. We have your papers, signed by your own brother and your cousin,
so there is nothing you can do about it but submit."
"My cousin!" repeated Mary Louise, thinking of her aunt's children, aged
nine and six. How could they commit anybody to an insane asylum?
"Yes. Stanfield Frazier."
"Frazier!" she cried in scorn. "He's not my cousin! He's no relation.
He's a crook too, like Tom Adams."
"Now, now, Rebecca, calm yourself," advised the woman, taking Mary
Louise's arm. "And just come along with me. You don't want to make
trouble! Wouldn't you rather walk by yourself than have these men carry
you?"
Tears of anguish came to the girl's eyes; she looked desperately about at
the group of people who were surrounding her, searching for some spark of
sympathy or understanding. But the men were all regarding her with an
amused expression of tolerance, as if her action were just what they had
expected.
"Isn't there some way I can prove that I'm sane?" she demanded. "Some
test I can take?"
"Oh, don't get yourself all worked up, Rebecca," answered the woman.
"Your brother told us you were all right most of the time and that you
probably wouldn't give us any trouble. We're not going to put you into
chains. You'll like it here."
Mary Louise groaned. There was nothing she could do or say so long as
they believed that wicked Tom Adams.
So she meekly followed the woman into the house. Its large hall and big
reception room were plain and old-fashioned, with very little furniture
in them, but she noticed that everything was scrupulously neat and clean.
For that much she was thankful. Often, she had read, the places where
kidnapers confined their victims were filthy and germ laden. She need
have no fear of disease here--except disease of the mind!
A younger woman in the white uniform of a nurse came into the hall to
meet them.
"This is Miss Stone, Rebecca," announced the older woman. "She will help
you and take care of you. Now go with Miss Stone to your room."
"Didn't you bring any bag, Rebecca?" asked the nurse, as she led Mary
Louise up a flight of stairs to a long corridor.
Mary Louise smiled grimly.
"Kidnapers don't usually allow their victims time to pack their
suitcases," she said. "And if you don't mind, Miss Stone, will you call
me by my right name? It's Mary Louise Gay."
The young woman nodded solemnly.
"Certainly, Mary Louise," she replied.
Mary Louise looked at the nurse hopefully, wondering whether she was
really finding a friend. Did the nurse believe her?
All the doors along the corridor were closed, but Mary Louise had no way
of telling whether they were locked or not until, down near the end, she
suddenly heard a loud pounding. Miss Stone stopped and, taking a key from
her chain, unlocked the door. A mild-faced woman of about thirty-five
came out.
"I just wanted to see who was coming," she said. "Ah! A pretty girl."
Miss Stone paused and introduced them courteously. The patient was
dressed in the blue calico of the institution, but there was nothing
queer or odd about her looks. She appeared to be much more normal than
Rebecca Adams.
"This is Mary Louise Gay," said Miss Stone. "She has come to live with
us. And this, Mary Louise, is Joan of Arc. The girl who saved France, you
remember?"
"Oh!" gasped Mary Louise, in amazement. Was Miss Stone joking, or did the
patient really believe she was Joan of Arc?
The woman in calico smiled proudly.
"Yes," she said. "I rode right at the head of my soldiers. I told them
God was on our side. And we won! But they are going to burn me at the
stake for being a witch if they ever find me. That's why I stay here. I'm
safe here. Aren't I, Miss Stone?"
"Yes, dear, you're safe," was the nurse's gentle assurance.
A lump came into Mary Louise's throat. The pathos of it all! Yet how kind
and sweet Miss Stone was. Oh, but--ghastly thought--the nurse was being
kind to Mary Louise in the same way! That was why she humored her by
calling her "Mary Louise." And all the time she believed her to be
Rebecca Adams!
Three doors farther down the nurse stopped and unlocked another door.
"This is to be your room, Mary Louise," she said. "It'll be nicer when
you put some flowers in it. We have a lovely garden, and most of the
patients have their own special flower beds. You can grow whatever you
like best."
Mary Louise looked about her. Never in her life had she seen such a plain
room. It contained only a bed and a washstand and one chair. Not even a
bureau or a table! The window was high and uncurtained. To her horror
Mary Louise saw that it was protected by iron bars!
"You take off your clothing now and have a bath. You can put your own
things in the drawer of that washstand, and I'll bring you fresh
clothing. Everybody wears blue here."
"Where do I take my bath?" asked Mary Louise dully. Not that she cared in
the least, except that it would be something to do.
"I'll take you to the showers when I come back with your new clothing,"
replied Miss Stone. And to Mary Louise's dismay the nurse locked the door
from the outside as she departed.
The next twelve hours seemed to Mary Louise the longest she had ever
lived through. After her bath she was told to lie down until supper time.
She was entirely alone in that bare room until six o'clock, with nothing
to do but think. Finally an attendant brought her a tray of food, well
cooked and wholesome but far from dainty. Nevertheless, Mary Louise ate
it, for she knew that she must keep up her strength if she ever hoped to
make an escape. Another attendant removed the tray, and she was left
alone again until eight o'clock. Then Miss Stone returned.
"We have a little vesper service in the reception room, Mary Louise," she
said. "Would you like to come and join us?"
The girl jumped up eagerly. Anything would be better than this dreadful
idleness.
"Don't your patients have anything to do?" she inquired as she went down
the hall with the nurse. "This doing nothing is enough to drive anybody
crazy!" She smiled to herself at the use of the common expression and
wondered whether Miss Stone noticed it.
But the nurse gave no sign of any amusement. "Oh, yes, Mary Louise," she
replied, "there will be lots for you to do tomorrow. Everybody takes some
share in the work, if possible. Unless they are too ill. And we go for
walks around the grounds and work in the garden. But we thought you'd be
too tired tonight and would just want to rest."
They joined a group of perhaps twenty people in the reception room for
the singing of hymns, and the same woman who had met Mary Louise at the
door of the building read the Bible. Mary Louise looked about curiously
at her fellow inmates and did not find them particularly strange-looking.
One or two of them had queer, staring eyes like Rebecca Adams, but for
the most part they appeared normal. Which fact made it all the harder for
Mary Louise to prove anything about herself to the caretakers!
At nine o'clock the service was over and everybody went to bed. But,
exhausted as she was, Mary Louise could not go to sleep. She tried over
and over to formulate some plan of escape, but with the locked doors, the
constant supervision of nurses and attendants, and that high stone wall,
it seemed absolutely hopeless.
It was only when the first gray light of dawn broke in the sky that she
finally dozed off and then fell into a deep, heavy sleep.