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Show ' THE CITIZEN m a scientificbarbarian (Synopsis of Preceding Chapter: Drake Is Captain by the Germans and internedcaptured at a camp north of Munich. There he finds that the is Dr. Baumann, who was professor of experimental psychology at the American university he had attended some years before. Baumann interests himself in Drake and persondelivers letters from the captain's ally wife. The first' is a cheerful vein, but others tell- Drake of his childs death, loss of the money left for the care of his family and, finally, of his wifes arrest on a charge of murder, her trial and the disagreement of the jury) TT was at this time, of all times, that Baumann sought to gain a more intimate knowledge of all that had happened. To me this was like persecution, but how could I rebuff one who had seemed to be so consistently sympathetic. I told him all. He appeared to be as much dazed, at first, as I. He kept pursuing the subject. His curiosity was morbid and at the same time professional. He talked in terms of psychology as we had done at the university. There was nothing genuinely human about it. It was cruelly academic. Moreover, there was a certain coarseness of approach which I recognized intuitively as some thing I had long vaguely associated with Teutonic culture. Naturally this scientific probing of an intimate sorrow soon assumed a sinister aspect. As my nerves became more and more disordered I could no longer picture him as of the same world with me. Mentally he had become an enemy alien. And yet I had no reason to denounce him. He had singled me out for favors and I could ascribe his favoritism to no other c.'iUse than a tender recollection of old-- times and associations. He had, so to speak, complied with all the ritual of the religion of friendship while guilty of the most abominable sacrileges. I took to my bed, and he, being a doctor of medicine, insisted on prescribing for me. He began to question me about the state of my nerves. Knowing what a bore a man can make of himself when he insists on coui.i-inover his bodily ills to his friends, I had tried to conceal my wretcied condition, but lie drove me into the open. He seemed never to tire of analyzing symptoms. com-manda- nt . - ft g descent from a normal nerve to a nervous chaoa which affects the mind in its sleeping tfas well as its waking moments is the descent into Avernus. I who had seldom dreamed deeply enough to carry a vivid recollection of the dreams into my waking conscious ness now began to be distressed by nightmares and phantoms of a terriiic character. Constantly recurring was a scene m which I saw my wife led through interminable corridors to execution. Sometimes the electric chair, then the firing the squad, then the gallows and dread-brawny executioner tying that ful knot behind the ear, screams these were the substance of insommy dreams. Dreadful nights of nia 'when the waking phantoms were almost as substantial as those of my dream tortured and enfeebled me. I It is not to be wondered at that THE 9 soul-piercin- g was one of th first in the camp to fall victim to the influenza and its con- comitant pneuSionia. Many a stronger man succumbJd quickly. I passed the crisis and grofted my way, as it were, out into life again. But I was a mere shell of humanity. In my despair I began to pity htself and weep the tears a brave man 1 does not shed. In my lucid moments I knew that my will had been stretched on the rack of suffering until it had surrendered. TT was not until October that I began to gather new strength. Meantime Baumann had continued to annoy me for I had conceived a mortal antip athy toward him, despite his pretenso of friendly interest. In the spring he had come to me almost every day to boast of the German drive that was sweeping all before it and that was to end in the capture of Paris and the French ports before the American fighting legions could arrive in numbers sufficient to be of any genuine help to their allies. it. was a subject I wished to avoid, but Teutonic boastfulness overcame even the cold judgment of the professor, who seemed almost fanatically intent upon making me realize how impotent my coutnry was as a war power. In middle July I had noted a change in his demeanor. He lost his braggart attitude. Then he became silent cn the subject and finally remained away for days at a time. Weak and miserable though I was I felt something almost of joyousness at his absence. In late October I was conscious of the symptoms of returning strength and was regaining a hopeful attitude when I suffered a new setback. Dr. Baumann called on me looking more solemn than I remembered ever to have seen him. He seated himself, rubbed his hands clowly together, looked embarrassed, glanced out of the window in a speculative sort of fashion and finally said: I presume you are aware that all letters are opened by the prison censor? Another letter! I could feel myself turning white. Bad news again. The envelope tells the story, I replied. arrived yesterday, he I doubted whether I should added. even speak to you about it. He paused and eyed me curiously. Go on, for Gods sake, I managed to whisper. My wife? What of her? It bore an official stamp, he continued in a slow, hesitant way that was torture to me. It was not from your wife. It was from one she had asked to write some prison official, A letter I believe. "She is dead? Yes, she is dead executed. It was only in the retrospect that I remembered how horribly calm he was and how he watched me as if he were watching a cat or a dog ho was dissecting. By no figure of speech can I convey the horror that closed upon me. By F. P. Gallagher I took to my bed again. Somethin? had gone wrong with my heart and the prison doctor found it necessary to administer stimulants from time to time. The dreadful dreams returned and each one seemed to deduct something from my total of life. Two or three times I awoke from a torture-chambe- r to seo of Doctor Baumann sitting beside me. r on his lips There was a and a sinister light in his eye. He said little and appeared to be studyday-drea- half-snee- ing me. Once I asked him feebly: Doctor, is the war nearly over? Germans have not been doing doing well. How about the Ameri- The cans? Damn all the Americans, he cried, Damn them leaping from his seat. all. But if you must know how they are doing, I will tell you. They are shut up in Paris and we shall take it in a few days. I felt my eyes suffuse with tears. When I looked again he had disappeared and I never saw him afterward. BUGLE call in the . prison compound awoke me one nipping autumn day. I dragged myself out of bed and tottered wearily toward the window. A moment later I found myself A beating against the iron bars and cheering in a strange, hoarse voice. I had seen an American flag, vaguely as in a vision, and men in khaki. In my wild, disheveled state I must have presented a fantastic figure, for the men stopped and gaped at me for a second or two. Then one of them threw his cap in the air and all cheered back at me lustily, gloriously. Something black passed before my eyes and the vision vanished. ((TT is a singular case, I heard a I voice saying, I would not be surprised if irritant poisons had used. My eyes opened slowly. been A doctor was holding my hand and looking at me with a puzzled expression. Despite my weakness I sat upright in bed, startled into new life. "Dr. Winslow, I whispered. There, there, my boy, dont agitate yourself. Keep cool. You have been through a lot, old chap. But quiet yourself. Take it easy. with a smile. What did it mean? Here were the Americans beside me the beaten Americans, the Americans who, at that very moment, should have been shut up in beleagured Paris. And. best of all, beside me was my old f i lend indeed, the family doctor. I closed my eyes and kept them closed in deep content for a few moments and then looked again at the doctor, who had seated liini3elf beside me. "I bring you good news, he said. I fear no one can bring me good llut it is a great news, I replied, day to be with my own people again. I SANK back on my pillow Why are you here? I. was told by' the commandant of this prison that the Americans were shut up iu Paris. The doctor glanced at a young lieu tenant who was beside him, and both betrayed utter amazement. Its like the Hun, said the doctor. I wonder what else they have been telling you . But you have not .asked me what news I bring? It is from your wife. At first I thought that it was a recurrence of my terrible dreams. I put out my hand to feel the warmth of the doctors palm. I began to tremble violently. Is it a chill? the doctor inquired in alarm. My God, doctor, he also told me something about my wife. Tell me, is it true? Is it true? Is she dead? As much alive as I am, replied the doctor. Then she was set free, I muttered. "Set free? The doctors eyes began to expand with wonder and inSet free? IFrom what? quiry. "Prison, I said. The doctor looked up at the lieutenant significantly. he He is mad, said. No! sane. Doctor doctor No! I cried. I am perfectly is what I was told. But that Baumann you remember him, Professor Baumann is commandant here. He told me my wife had been executed for murder. And how did he get such information? asked the doctor. From the sheriff or from some ofI said. Listen, said the doctor, and get this into your mind once for all. Your wife is in perfect health never better in her life. She has been in no trouble, but she has been gravely worried that she has not heard from you since you were taken prisoner. "But I wrote, wrote many times." She had received no letters up to the time I left six weeks ago, he said. And the baby? ficial, . Flourishing. But what does it all mean? The letters from her, telling me of her trouble letters in her own handwriting. They are in that desk yonder. Give them to me, doctor. Captain Winslow gave me the letters one by one. See, I said, as he handed me the first letter. It is her writing. And what So it is, he assented. did that letter say? It is her first letter, in which she tells me that all is well. And all is well. All has been well.' He handed me another letter and another. I scanned them carefully as the captain supported me on his arm. Look, I said hoarsely. It is her writing. Look again, man; look again, said the doctor. And then I began to see. "Forgeries, I whispered. (Continued on Page 9.) . v |