Kitobni o'qish: «A Boy's Fortune», sahifa 9

CHAPTER XXV.
In a Trap

For a sane person to find himself suddenly incarcerated in a lunatic asylum is enough to excite a thrill of horror in the most stolid. Ben shuddered and started back, pale and sick with apprehension. He was a brave boy, but it required more courage than he possessed to preserve his coolness under such circumstances.

"What does it mean?" he ejaculated.

"It means, my friend," answered M. Bourdon, with a sardonic smile, "that you are not quite right here," and he tapped his forehead significantly.

He spoke English correctly, but with an accent, having, when a young man, passed several years in England.

"It is a lie!" exclaimed Ben, indignantly, his terror giving place to anger. "My mind is not in the least affected."

M. Bourdon shrugged his shoulders, with another aggravating smile.

"They all say so," he answered.

"I am as sane as you are!" continued Ben, hotly.

"Well, well, I may be a little touched myself – who knows?" said M. Bourdon, or the doctor, as we may call him, in a tone of banter.

It was hard for Ben to restrain himself, so impressed was he by the outrage of which he was the victim. It would have been a relief to attack the doctor, and seek deliverance by forcible means, but a glance at the well-knit frame of M. Bourdon, and the certainty of his being able to summon assistance, deterred him and led him to control his rash impulse. One thing he could do, and that was to ascertain, if possible, Major Grafton's motive in subjecting him to imprisonment.

"What proof have you that I am insane?" he asked, more calmly.

"Your appearance."

"You have not had time to examine me."

"The doctors are able to judge from very slight examination," said M. Bourdon, smiling.

"Did Major Grafton tell you I was insane?" asked Ben.

"You mean the gentleman who came here with you?"

"Yes."

"He has assured me of it."

"What did he say? How did he tell you I had shown signs of insanity?"

"He said you had tried to drown yourself in the lake, and, being foiled in that, had made an attempt to poison him. Surely this is enough to warrant his sending you to me."

"Did he utter these infamous falsehoods?" demanded Ben, startled.

"Of course you pronounce them falsehoods, my young friend, and doubtless you believe what you say. I am quite sure you have no recollection of what you did. This is one of your sane periods. At this moment you are as sane as I am."

"You admit that?" said Ben, in surprise.

"Certainly, for it is true. Your insanity is fitful – paroxysmal. Half an hour hence you may stand in need of a strait-jacket. If you were always as clear in mind as at present there would be no need of detaining you. I would open my door and say, 'Go, my young friend. You do not need my care.' Unfortunately, we do not know how long this mood may last."

The doctor spoke smoothly and plausibly, and it was hard for Ben to tell whether he was really in earnest or not. He regarded M. Bourdon intently, and thought he detected a slight mocking smile, which excited his doubt and distrust anew. To appeal to such a man seemed well-nigh hopeless, but there was nothing else to do.

"Are you the doctor?" he asked.

"Yes; I am Dr. Bourdon," was the reply.

"And you are at the head of this establishment?" continued Ben.

"I have that honor, my young friend," answered Bourdon.

"Then I wish to tell you that Major Grafton has deceived you. He has an object to serve in having me locked up here."

"Doubtless," answered the doctor, with an amused smile, taking a pinch of snuff.

"He is afraid I would reveal a secret which would strip him of his income," continued Ben.

"And that secret is – ?" said the doctor, not without curiosity.

Ben answered this question as briefly and clearly as he could.

The doctor listened with real interest, and it might have been satisfactory to Ben had he known that his story was believed. M. Bourdon was a shrewd man of the world, and it struck him that this knowledge might enable him to demand more extortionate terms of Major Grafton.

"Don't you believe me?" asked Ben, watching the face of his listener.

"I hear a great many strange stories," said the doctor. "I have to be cautious about what I believe."

"But surely you will believe me, knowing that I am perfectly sane?"

"That is the question to be determined," said M. Bourdon, smiling.

"Won't you investigate it?" pleaded Ben. "It is a crime to keep me here, when I am of sound mind."

"Whenever I am convinced of that I will let you go. Meanwhile you must be quiet, and submit to the rules of my establishment."

"How long do you expect to keep me here?" asked Ben.

"As long as you require it and your board is paid."

Ben looked despondent, for this assurance held out very little hope of release. Still he was young, and youth is generally hopeful. Something might turn up. Ben was determined that something should turn up. He was not going to remain shut up in a mad-house any longer than he could help. He remained silent, and M. Bourdon touched a little bell upon a small table beside the door.

The summons was answered by a stout man with rough, black locks, who looked like a hotel porter.

"Francois," said the doctor, in the French language, "conduct this young man to No. 19."

"At once, Monsieur le Docteur," answered the attendant. "Come with me, young man."

He signed to Ben to follow him, and our hero, realizing the utter futility of resistance, did so.

"Go ahead, monsieur," said Francois, when they came to a staircase.

Ben understood him very well, though he spoke in French, thanks to his assiduous study of the last four weeks.

They walked along a narrow corridor, and Francois, taking from his pocket a bunch of keys, carefully selected one and opened the door.

"Entrez monsieur."

Ben found himself in an apartment about the size of a hall bedroom, with one window, and a narrow bedstead, covered with an exceedingly thin mattress. There was no carpet on the floor, and the furniture was very scanty. It consisted of but one chair, a cheap bureau, and a washstand. And this was to be Ben's home – for how long?

"I must get acquainted with this man," thought Ben. "I must try to win his goodwill, and perhaps he may be able to help me to escape."

"Is your name Francois?" he asked, as the man lingered at the door.

"Oui, monsieur."

"And how long have you been here – in this asylum?"

"How long, monsieur? Five years, nearly."

"There is some mistake about my being here, Francois. I don't look crazy, do I?"

"No, monsieur; but – "

"But what?"

"That proves nothing."

"There is a plot against me, and I am put here by an enemy. I want you to be my friend. Here, take this."

Ben produced from his pocket a silver franc piece and offered it to Francois, who took it eagerly, for the man's besetting sin was avarice.

"Thanks, monsieur – much thanks!" he said, his stolid face lighting up. "I will be a friend."

"Francois!"

At the call from below Francois hastily thrust the coin into his pocket, nodded significantly to Ben, and, retiring, locked the door behind him.

CHAPTER XXVI.
Introduces Two Celebrities

What a change a short half-hour may make in the position and feelings of any person! Little did Ben imagine, when he set out on a drive in the morning with Major Grafton, that he was on his way to one of the most hopeless of prisons.

It was hard even now for him to realize his position. He looked from the window, and with a glance of envy saw in a field, not far away, some Swiss peasants at work. They were humble people, living a quiet, uneventful, laborious life; yet Ben felt that they were infinitely better off than he, provided he were doomed to pass the remainder of his life in this refuge. But of this he would not entertain the idea. He was young, not yet seventeen, and life was full of pleasant possibilities.

"I am a Yankee," he thought, "and I don't believe they will succeed in keeping me here long. I will keep a bright lookout for a chance to escape."

Half an hour later Ben heard the key grate in the lock, and, fixing his eyes on the entrance, he saw Francois enter.

"Monsieur, dinner is ready," he said.

Ben, notwithstanding his disagreeable situation, felt that he, too, was ready for the dinner. He was glad to find that it was not to be served to him in his own room. He would have a chance of seeing the other inmates of the house.

"Where is it?" he asked.

"Follow me," answered Francois, of course in French.

He led the way, and Ben followed him into a lower room, long and narrow, which was used as the dining-room. There were no side-windows, and it would have been quite dark but for a narrow strip of window near the ceiling.

Around a plain table sat a curious collection of persons. It was easy to see that something was the matter with them, for I do not wish to have it understood that all the inmates of the house were, like our hero, perfectly sane. M. Bourdon was not wholly a quack, but he was fond of money, and, looking through the eyes of self-interest, he was willing to consider Ben insane, although he knew very well that he was as rational as himself.

"Sit here, monsieur," said Francois.

Ben took the seat indicated, and naturally turned to survey his immediate neighbors.

The one on the right-hand was a tall, venerable-looking man, with white hair and a flowing beard, whose manner showed the most perfect decorum. The other was a thin, dark-complexioned man, of bilious aspect, and shifty, evasive eyes. Neither noticed Ben at first, as the dinner appeared to engross their first attention. This consisted of a thin broth and a section of a loaf of coarse bread as the first course. Ben had been accustomed to more luxurious fare, and he was rather surprised to see with what enjoyment his neighbors partook of it. Next came a plate of meat, and this was followed by a small portion of grapes. There was nothing more. It was clear that M. Bourdon did not consider rich fare good for his patients.

"I think I would rather dine at the hotel," thought Ben; but the diet was not by any means the worst thing of which he complained.

"If I were free I would not mind how poor and plain my fare was," he thought.

His companions finished dinner before him, and had leisure to bestow some attention upon him.

"My little gentleman, do you come from Rome?" asked the venerable old gentleman on his right.

"No, sir," answered Ben.

"I am sorry. I wished to ask you a question."

"Indeed, sir. Perhaps I might answer it even now. I have been in Florence."

"No; that will not do; and yet, perhaps you may have met persons coming from Rome?"

"I did, monsieur."

"Then perhaps they told you how things were going on."

"Very well, I believe, monsieur."

"No, that could not be," said the old gentleman, shaking his head. "I am sure nothing would go well without me."

"Do you, then, live in Rome?" asked Ben, curiously.

"Surely!" exclaimed the old man. "Did you not know that the Pope lived in Rome?"

"But what has that to do with you, sir?"

"A great deal. Know, my little gentleman, that I – to whom you are speaking – am the Pope."

This was said with an air of importance.

"There's no doubt about his being insane," thought Ben.

"How, then, do you happen to be here?" asked our hero, interested to see what his companion would say.

"I was abducted," said the old gentleman, lowering his voice, "by an emissary of the King of America. M. Bourdon is a cousin of the king, and he is in the plot. But they won't keep me here long."

"I hope not," said Ben, politely.

"The King of Spain has promised to send an army to deliver me. I only received his letter last week. You will not tell M. Bourdon, will you?"

"Certainly not," answered Ben.

"It is well; I thought I could rely upon your honor."

"My friend," said another voice, that of his left-hand neighbor, "you are losing your time in talking with that old fool. The fact is, he isn't right here," and he touched his head.

The Pope appeared deeply absorbed in thought, and did not hear this complimentary remark.

"He thinks he is the Pope. He is no more the Pope than I am."

Ben nodded non-committally.

"He ought to be here. But I – I am the victim of an infamous horde of enemies, who have placed me here."

"Why should they do that, sir?"

"To keep me out of my rights. It is the English Government that has done it. Of course, you know who I am."

"No, sir, I don't think I do."

"Look well at me!" and the dark man threw himself back in his chair for inspection.

"I am afraid I don't recognize you, monsieur," said Ben.

"Bah! where are your eyes?" said the other, contemptuously. "I am Napoleon Bonaparte!"

"But I thought you died at St. Helena," said Ben.

"Quite a mistake, I assure you. The English Government so asserted, but it was a deception. They wished my memory to die out among my faithful French. They buried my effigy, but smuggled me off in a vessel late at night. They placed me here, and here they mean to keep me – if they can. But some day I shall escape; I shall re-enter France; I shall summon all to my banner, and at the head of a great army I shall enter Paris. Do you know what I will do then?"

"What will you do, sir?" asked Ben, with some curiosity.

"I shall descend upon England with an army of five millions of men," said the dark man, his eyes flashing, "and burn all her cities and towns."

"That will be rather severe, won't it?" asked Ben.

"She deserves it; but I may do worse."

"How can that be?"

"Do you see that man over on the other side of the table – the short, red-haired man?"

"Yes, I see him."

"He is a chemist and has invented a compound a thousand times more powerful than dynamite. I am negotiating for it, and, if I succeed, I mean to blow the whole island out of the water. What do you think of that, eh?" he continued, triumphantly.

"I think in that case I shall keep away from England," answered Ben, keeping as straight a face as he could.

"Ah, you will do well."

When dinner was over, the boarders passed out of the room, Ben among them. He was destined not to go out quietly.

Suddenly a wild-looking woman darted toward him and threw her arms around his neck, exclaiming:

"At last I have found you, my son, my son!"

Ben struggled to release himself, assisted by Francois, who did not scruple to use considerable force.

"None of your tricks, madam!" he cried, angrily.

"Will you take from me my boy?" she exclaimed, piteously.

"There is some mistake. I am not your son," said Ben.

The woman shook her head sadly.

"He disowns his poor mother," she said, mournfully.

On the whole, Ben was rather glad to return to his chamber.

"I don't like my fellow-boarders," he thought. "I sha'n't stay in the maison de fous any longer than I am obliged to."

CHAPTER XXVII.
A Midnight Escape

For three days Ben passed a dull, uniform existence, being most of the time confined to his chamber. To a boy of active temperament it was most irksome. If he only had something to read, the hours would pass more swiftly. Fortunately, on the second day, he bethought himself of Francois, who seemed friendly.

"Francois," he said, "can't you get me something to read?"

"I don't know," said the attendant, doubtfully. "What would monsieur like?"

"Anything you can find. I would prefer a story."

"I will try, monsieur."

The next time Francois made his appearance he held in his hand a tattered edition of a popular novel.

"Will that do?" he asked.

Ben had never heard of the book, but on opening its pages it looked attractive, and he answered:

"Yes, Francois, I am much obliged to you."

He thought it politic, remembering that he might need other favors, to put a franc piece into the hand of the friendly attendant.

Francois brightened up. His wages were so small that these little gratuities were very welcome.

"Would monsieur like something else?" he inquired.

"There is one thing I would like very much, Francois," answered Ben.

"What is that, monsieur?"

"To get out of this place."

"But monsieur is insane."

"I am no more insane than you are. Do I look insane?"

"No; but one cannot always tell."

"I would give a hundred francs to any one who would get me out of this," said Ben, not, however, expecting to produce much impression on the mind of his auditor.

"A hundred francs!" repeated Francois, his eyes sparkling.

But in a moment he looked sober.

"It would not do. I should be discharged," he said.

"Think it over, Francois," said Ben.

The attendant did not answer, but the suggestion had borne fruit.

It may be asked how Ben had so much money. It may be explained that he was about to send a remittance home, having received a payment from Major Grafton, but his unexpected arrival at the refuge had prevented him. He had with him two hundred francs, or about forty dollars in gold.

Something happened on the third day which worked favorably for Ben's hopes of securing the active assistance of Francois. About dusk a boy appeared at the gate of the asylum, and asked to see Francois.

When the two were brought together, he said:

"I came from your wife. She wishes you to come home. The child – little Marie – is very sick."

Poor Francois was much disturbed. In a little cottage five miles away lived his wife and his only child, Marie. The poor fellow was deeply attached to his child, for it must be remembered that the poor and simple-minded are quite as apt to have as strong affections as the richer and more favored.

"Is she very bad, Jean?" he asked, quite pale.

"Yes," answered Jean. "I think she is out of her head. She keeps moaning. Her poor mother is very much frightened."

"I will ask if I can come," said Francois, and he straightway sought out the doctor.

"I would like to speak to you, M. Bourdon," he said.

"Speak quick, then, for I am busy," said the doctor, gruffly, for something had happened to disturb him.

"Jean Gault has just told me that my little Marie is very sick, and my wife wants me to come home. If I could go now, I would come back in the morning."

"Well, you can't go," said the doctor, harshly.

"But, Monsieur le Docteur, do you understand that my child – my little Marie – is very sick? She moans, and is out of her head, and I may never see her again, if I don't go."

"Plague take your little Marie!" said M. Bourdon, brutally. "What have I to do with her? I want you to stay here. You know very well that you can't be spared."

"But," protested Francois, indignantly, "do you think because I am poor that I have no feeling? You are very much mistaken. I cannot stay away and let poor Marie die without seeing her."

"You can't go, at all events," said M. Bourdon, roughly.

"I cannot go?"

"No; or, if you do, you will lose your place. I cannot have my men going away on every silly pretext. I don't believe your child is sick at all."

"But Jean Gault is below. He has brought word from my wife."

"I dare say it is all planned between you."

"Then you will not let me go?"

"No, I won't. If you go, you lose your place. I shall not take you back. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand," said Francois, slowly.

"Then you can go. We have had words enough about this."

If the doctor had not been irritated he would have been careful how he dealt with Francois, who was the most valuable man in his employ. But when we are irritated we lose sight of what is politic, and are apt to make grievous mistakes, as M. Bourdon certainly did on this occasion.

Francois sought out little Jean.

"Jean," he said, "go home and tell my wife that I will come some time to-night. The doctor has forbidden me to go, but I shall go, all the same. Be sure you tell no one else."

"Very well, Francois," answered the boy.

"Tell my wife I may be late, but I will surely come."

The boy went away, and Francois went up to Ben's room.

"Monsieur, I have something to say to you," he commenced.

"What is it, Francois?"

"You said you would give a hundred francs to any one who would get you out of this?"

"Yes, Francois," answered Ben, quickly.

"Have you so much money with you, then?" asked Francois, doubtfully.

"See here!" and Ben took out five napoleons, which he displayed in his open palm.

The attendant's eyes sparkled.

"And you will give them to me, if perchance I set you free?"

"Yes."

"Listen, then. I would not do it, but my little Marie is very sick, and my wife wants me to come home. Perhaps she may die;" and the poor fellow suppressed a sob. "But M. Bordon – that is the doctor – he says I shall not go. He said 'Plague take your child!'" continued Francois, wrathfully.

"Poor Francois," said Ben compassionately.

"Ah! you feel for me, little monsieur," said Francois, gratefully. "The doctor has a heart like a stone. He says if I go I shall not come back; but I do not care, I cannot stay away. I will go, and you shall go with me. Can you walk five miles?"

"I can walk ten – fifteen, if necessary," said Ben, promptly.

"Then be ready at midnight. We will go together. It will not do to go earlier. Then the doctor will be asleep. Every one else will be asleep, and we can go away unobserved. M. Bourdon will be sorry that he did not let me go. I promised to come back." And Francois's eyes sparkled with honest indignation.

Ben's heart beat high with hope.

"You will come to my room at midnight?" he said.

"Yes, monsieur."

"I will be ready."

"One thing, monsieur. Do not have your shoes on. You can carry them in your hand. We must not make any noise when we are going down stairs, or we may be caught."

"That is well thought of, Francois. Depend upon me. I will be ready."

It will easily be supposed that Ben did not go to bed. He sat waiting patiently hour after hour till, as midnight struck, his door was softly opened, and Francois appeared.

"Now," said the attendant, "follow me, and make no noise."

Ben, in his stocking feet, followed the attendant down stairs. Producing a large key, Francois opened the outside door, then closed it softly, and they stood outside under a star-lit sky.