" The
fifth, a Neanderthal type in a white jacket, was Doctor Vehrner's
attendant and bodyguard; he could be ignored, like an enlisted man
unthinkingly obeying the orders of a superior.
"But you are not cooperating, Colonel Hampton," the psychiatrist
complained. "How can I help you if you do not cooperate?"
Colonel Hampton took the cigar from his mouth. His white mustache,
tinged a faint yellow by habitual smoking, twitched angrily.
"Oh; you call it helping me, do you?" he asked acidly.
"But why else am I here?" the doctor parried.
"You're here because my loving nephew and his charming wife can't wait
to see me buried in the family cemetery; they want to bury me alive in
that private Bedlam of yours," Colonel Hampton replied.
"See!" Myra Hampton turned to the psychiatrist. "We are _persecuting_
him! We are all _envious_ of him! We are _plotting against_ him!"
"Of course; this sullen and suspicious silence is a common paranoid
symptom; one often finds such symptoms in cases of senile dementia,"
Doctor Vehrner agreed.
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