Jack's Ward; Or, The Boy Guardian, Jr. Horatio Alger [top books to read .TXT] 📗

to keep me cooped up here?" he asked, desperately, wishing to learn the worst at once.

"Really, my young friend, I couldn't say. I don't know how long it will be before you are cured."

"Cured?" repeated Jack, puzzled.

The old man tapped his forehead.

"You're a little affected here, you know, but under my treatment I hope soon to restore you to your friends."

"What!" ejaculated our hero, terror-stricken, "you don't mean to say you think I'm crazy?"

"To be sure you are," said the old man, "but—"

"But I tell you it's a lie," exclaimed Jack, energetically. "Who told you so?"

"Your aunt."

"My aunt?"

"Yes, Mrs. Hardwick. She brought you here to be treated for insanity."

"It's a base lie," said Jack, hotly. "That woman is no more my aunt than you are. She's an impostor. She carried off my sister Ida, and this is only a plot to get rid of me. She told me she was going to take me to see Ida."

The old man shrugged his shoulders.

"My young friend," he said, "she told me all about it—that you had a delusion about some supposed sister, whom you accused her of carrying off."

"This is outrageous," said Jack, hotly.

"That's what all my patients say."

"And you are a mad-doctor?"

"Yes."

"Then you know by my looks that I am not crazy."

"Pardon me, my young friend; that doesn't follow. There is a peculiar appearance about your eyes which I cannot mistake. There's no mistake about it, my good sir. Your mind has gone astray, but if you'll be quiet, and won't excite yourself, you'll soon be well."

"How soon?"

"Well, two or three months."

"Two or three months! You don't mean to say you want to confine me here two or three months?"

"I hope I can release you sooner."

"You can't understand your business very well, or you would see at once that I am not insane."

"That's what all my patients say. They won't any of them own that their minds are affected."

"Will you supply me with some writing materials?"

"Yes; Samuel shall bring them here."

"I suppose you will excuse my suggesting also that it is dinner time?"

"He shall bring you some dinner at the same time."

The old man retired, but in fifteen minutes a plate of meat and vegetables was brought to the room.

"I'll bring the pen and ink afterward," said the negro.

In spite of his extraordinary situation and uncertain prospects, Jack ate with his usual appetite.

Then he penned a letter to his uncle, briefly detailing the circumstances of his present situation.

"I am afraid," the letter concluded, "that while I am shut up here, Mrs. Hardwick will carry Ida out of the city, where it will be more difficult for us to get on her track. She is evidently a dangerous woman."

Two days passed and no notice was taken of the letter.

CHAPTER XXVII JACK BEGINS TO REALIZE HIS SITUATION

"It's very strange," thought Jack, "that Uncle Abel doesn't take any notice of my letter."

In fact, our hero felt rather indignant, as well as surprised, and on the next visit of Dr. Robinson, he asked: "Hasn't my uncle been here to ask about me?"

"Yes," said the old man, unexpectedly.

"Why didn't you bring him up here to see me?"

"He just inquired how you were, and said he thought you were better off with us than you would be at home."

Jack looked fixedly in the face of the pretended doctor, and was convinced that he had been deceived.

"I don't believe it," he said.

"Oh! do as you like about believing it."

"I don't believe you mailed my letter to my uncle."

"Have it your own way, my young friend. Of course I can't argue with a maniac."

"Don't call me a maniac, you old humbug! You ought to be in jail for this outrage."

"Ho, ho! How very amusing you are, my young friend!" said the old man. "You'd make a first-class tragedian, you really would."

"I might do something tragic, if I had a weapon," said Jack, significantly. "Are you going to let me out?"

"Positively, I can't part with you. You are too good company," said Dr. Robinson, mockingly. "You'll thank me for my care of you when you are quite cured."

"That's all rubbish," said Jack, boldly. "I'm no more crazy than you are, and you know it. Will you answer me a question?"

"It depends on what it is," said the old man, cautiously.

"Has Mrs. Hardwick been here to ask about me?"

"Certainly. She takes a great deal of interest in you."

"Was there a little girl with her?"

"I believe so. I really don't remember."

"If she calls again, either with or without Ida, will you ask her to come up here? I want to see her."

"Yes, I'll tell her. Now, my young friend, I must really leave you. Business before pleasure, you know."

Jack looked about the room for something to read. He found among other books a small volume, purporting to contain "The Adventures of Baron Trenck."

It may be that the reader has never encountered a copy of this singular book. Baron Trenck was several times imprisoned for political offenses, and this book contains an account of the manner in which he succeeded, after years of labor, in escaping from his dungeon.

Jack read the book with intense interest and wondered, looking about the room, if he could not find some similar plan of escape.

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