Even in her half-frenzied state, Mrs. Gay looked at the young architect and thought what an admirable man he was. How anyone could have thought him guilty of any crime was more than she could understand. He was more help to her in the crisis than anyone else—except Freckles.
So, accepting Mrs. Gay’s advice, the group dispersed to their own cottages, intending to continue the search the following morning.
CHAPTER XV
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 kidnapped 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 tomo
rrow. 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.
CHAPTER XVI
Weary Waiting
Like her daughter, Mrs. Gay did not go to sleep until dawn of the following morning. Her mental torture was even keener than Mary Louise’s, for her imagination suggested all sorts of horrible fates, worse than the one the girl was actually enduring. Physical violence, association with hardened criminals, hunger, thirst—and—death. That was the most terrifying thought of all—the fear that Mary Louise might already be dead!
Like her daughter’s, too, Mrs. Gay’s suffering was all the more intense because she had to bear it alone through the long, silent night. Freckles and Jane, tired out from their vigorous search, had fallen instantly asleep. There was nobody to sympathize with the poor frenzied mother. She swallowed dose after dose of aspirin, until finally, with the first gray streaks of dawn, she at last fell asleep.
Freckles was the first person awake in the household the next morning, and he immediately started the breakfast. Jane, arriving on the scene fifteen minutes later, was surprised and delighted at the boy’s progress.
The Girl Detective Megapack: 25 Classic Mystery Novels for Girls Page 27