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 passed 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.
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