She simply sat, with staring eyes, and clutched the
arms of her chair as though to keep from slipping into some dreadful
abyss. Once a low moan escaped from her lips.
"My wife is naturally overwrought by this painful business," Stephen
said. "I trust that you gentlemen will excuse her.... Hadn't you better
go and lie down somewhere, Myra?"
She shook her head violently, moaning again. Both the doctor and the
attorney were looking at her curiously.
"Well, I object to being drugged," Colonel Hampton said, rising. "And
what's more, I won't submit to it."
"Albert!" Doctor Vehrner said sharply, nodding toward the Colonel. The
pithecanthropoid attendant in the white jacket hastened forward, pinned
his arms behind him and dragged him down into the chair. For an instant,
the old man tried to resist, then, realizing the futility and undignity
of struggling, subsided. The psychiatrist had taken a leather case from
his pocket and was selecting a hypodermic needle.
Then Myra Hampton leaped to her feet, her face working hideously.
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