"But really, it's
not getting us anywhere, so to say. You know, we must have that
commitment signed by you. Now, is it or is it not your opinion that this
man is of unsound mind?"
"Now, have patience, Mr. Powell," the psychiatrist soothed him. "You
must admit that as long as this gentleman refuses to talk, I cannot be
said to have interviewed him."
"What if he won't talk?" Stephen Hampton burst out. "We've told you
about his behavior; how he sits for hours mumbling to this imaginary
person he thinks is with him, and how he always steps aside when he
opens a door, to let somebody who isn't there go through ahead of him,
and how.... Oh, hell, what's the use? If he were in his right mind, he'd
speak up and try to prove it, wouldn't he? What do you say, Myra?"
Myra was silent, and Colonel Hampton found himself watching her with
interest. Her mouth had twisted into a wry grimace, and she was
clutching the arms of her chair until her knuckles whitened. She seemed
to be in some intense pain. Colonel Hampton hoped she were; preferably
with something slightly fatal.
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