"I shall put you on corridor work. That is, you will walk up and down the corridors, and, if you hear any of the patients calling, or note any unusual noise, you are to ring the bell. I will show you about it."

After supper, which he ate alone in the big dining-room, Frank was taken upstairs by Mrs. Robotham, and instructed in his work. The sanitarium was a large one, and there were a number of corridors, from which opened the rooms of the patients.

"We have night and day shifts for this duty," Dr. Hardman's a.s.sistant explained, "but we are a little short-handed now, so you will have to work harder than usual. I am glad the doctor took you, as I have had to do some of this corridor work myself, and, with my other duties, it has made me quite played out. All you have to do is to walk around. I will give you a pair of felt slippers which you are to wear nights, as they make no noise. When you hear any unusual commotion in any of the rooms, go to the end of the corridor and press the push b.u.t.ton the number of times to correspond with the number on the door of the room. Attendants will answer the bell, and do whatever is necessary. Do you think you understand it?"

Frank said he did, and, a little later, with his feet in a pair of soft slippers, which were rather large for him, he was patroling up and down the corridors.

"Well, this is getting into a lunatic asylum in a hurry," he thought as he walked along. "How strange it turned out! The mere chance of Mr.

Armstrong giving me that paper this afternoon brings me here to-night. I wonder if I can do what I set out to do? First I must find out which is his room. That I can't do until I see him again, for if I make inquiries of any of the attendants they will get suspicious and tell Dr. Hardman, and then I'll have to leave."

For an hour or more Frank walked up and down the corridors. He had three for which he was responsible. It was rather monotonous work, even though now and then nurses and attendants pa.s.sed through. He was beginning to feel sleepy, and decided that a drink of ice water would rouse him. He walked to the end of the long hall to where the cooler stood. As he was pa.s.sing room twenty-seven he heard a great racket within. It sounded as though the inmate had knocked over the table and chairs. At the same time, from the apartment, came the sound of a voice, pitched high in anger.

"There, knave! I have slain you at last!" was shouted in a man's voice. "Now, villains, do your worst! Ah! There is yet another scoundrel to slay!"

The noise of breaking wood increased, and Frank, in great alarm, ran to the push b.u.t.ton and rang the signal, two strokes followed after a pause by seven others.

The noise of attendants, approaching on the run, could be heard. Frank hurried back to the room whence the noise was still coming. As he pa.s.sed the apartment next to it, number twenty-eight, a man's head was thrust from the opened door. At the sight of it Frank could not repress an exclamation of astonishment. It was the man he wanted to find; the man with whom he had talked in the summer house. At the same instant the man recognized the boy, but, with a motion of his fingers to his lips, to enjoin silence, he shut the door of his room, and Frank heard the key turn in the lock.

CHAPTER XXIII

PLANNING A RESCUE

By this time the attendants were at room twenty-seven. Several of them entered, and the commotion that had gone on without ceasing since Frank first heard it, quieted down. As the boy pa.s.sed the apartment he saw a little man, standing in a fighting att.i.tude, grasping the leg of a chair for a weapon, and seemingly bidding defiance to a horde of imaginary enemies.

"What is the trouble, your majesty?" he heard one of the attendants ask the patient.

"Why, the rebels have risen against their liege lord."

"We will attend to them," the attendant replied. "Sir Knight," turning to one of his companions, "order out the guard and take all the rebels to prison."

"That's the way to talk," interrupted his majesty with a laugh, not much in keeping with his a.s.sumed dignity. "Put the varlets in prison and I will have them beheaded to-morrow."

He was quieter now, and the attendants, pretending to drive before them a crowd of men who had defied the king, left the room. The head nurse, a strong man, who seemed to know just how to treat the patient, helped to set the room in order.

"Here, your majesty," he said, holding out a gla.s.s of liquid, "here is your favorite beverage; fresh b.u.t.termilk."

"It is very welcome," said the patient readily swallowing the liquid which looked like anything but the product from the churn.

"He'll be quiet for the rest of the night," the attendant observed to Frank, as he left the room, having seen the pretended king get into bed.

"We call his sleeping medicine b.u.t.termilk, and he takes it like a baby.

You're a new one, aren't you?"

"I came this evening."

"Well, you've seen one of our worst ones. Most of 'em are as quiet as the man in twenty-eight. He only gets real bad once in a while."

"Who is he?" asked Frank, impulsively.

The attendant looked curiously at the boy.

"Don't you know the rules?" he asked. "That's so, you're a new boy. Well, it's not allowed to talk about the patients, even among ourselves. No names are mentioned. In fact, I don't believe any of 'em would know their names if they heard 'em. This is a queer place. It hasn't been here very long. It was only built last year, but some of the patients have been with the doctor a long time. He transferred them from an asylum that he kept in New York."

By this time the patient, who imagined himself a king, was sleeping soundly, if his snores were any evidence. The guard went away with the other attendants, and Frank was left to patrol the corridors alone. There was one predominant thought in his mind. He must speak to the man in room twenty-eight.

He walked about through the long halls, listening for any further sounds of disturbance, but the sanitarium was very quiet. Every one but himself seemed slumbering, though he knew the attendants were ready to rush up at the sound of the bell.

"I wonder if he is asleep?" thought Frank, as he pa.s.sed room twenty-eight. "I'm going to knock on his door. He recognized me once and he may again. Then maybe we can have a talk."

Cautiously he tapped on the portal. There was no answer. He waited, and knocked again. Then, through the keyhole, a cautious voice asked:

"Who is there?"

"It is the boy who spoke to you in the summer house," was Frank's reply.

"Let me in."

The door was slowly opened and Frank entered the dark apartment. It was not without a little feeling of apprehension that he went in. He was alone in the room with a lunatic; a patient who became violent at times, the attendant had said. Suppose one of those fits should come on when Frank was with him? The boy did not like to think of this.

"What do you want?" the man in room twenty-eight asked, before he closed the door.

"I want to help you to escape."

"Hush! Don't let any of them hear you!" And the man, putting his hand over Frank's mouth, pulled him further inside and closed the door. Then they talked in whispers.

It was an hour later when Frank came out. There was a look of hope on his face as the gleam from an incandescent lamp, far down the corridor, illuminated his countenance.

"I'm sure I can manage it," he whispered to the man. "I'll have you out of here inside of a week, and then we can go away together."

"You may need help," the sanitarium patient said. "This place is closely guarded."

"I can get help," Frank replied, as he thought of his three chums. Then, with a hearty hand clasp, the man in room twenty-eight bade the boy go.

Frank resumed his walk up and down the corridors. But now he was wide awake, for he was planning to escape. Up and down he walked, arranging the details in his mind. At first it had seemed simple, but now, as he thought it over, unexpected difficulties arose.

"But I must do it!" he exclaimed to himself. "To think I have really found him, and that he is not insane at all. It's all part of a terrible plot. But I will solve the secret, and then--"

His thoughts were interrupted by a commotion in room twenty-eight; the apartment he had just left.

"They're killing me! They're killing me!" cried a voice in agony. "Don't let them! Take the cannibals away! I have come here to trade with the natives peaceably! Don't let them kill me!"

Sick at heart, and with nameless dread in his bosom, Frank ran to the bell and gave the signal for help.

CHAPTER XXIV