. . . I looked across the corridor and saw Miss Lincoln, . and asked her whether she was all right, being anxious to know whether she had been hurt by the treatment in the office building. . . Instantly Superintendent Whittaker rushed forward, shouting at me, “Stop that; not another word from your mouth, or I will handcuff you, gag you and put you in a straitjacket. . . I wish to state again that the cells into which we were put were situated in the men’s prison. There was no privacy for the women, and if any of us wished to undress we would be subject to the view or observation of the guards who remained in the corridor and who could at any moment look at us . . . . Furthermore, the water closets were in full view of the corridor where Superintendent Whittaker and the guards were moving about. The flushing of these closets could only be done from the corridor, and we were forced to ask the guards to do this for us,-the men who had shortly before attacked us . . . . None of the matrons or women attendants appeared at any time that night. No water was brought to us for washing, no food was offered to us . . . . I was exhausted by what I had seen and been through, and spent the night in absolute terror of further attack and of what might still be in store for us. I thought of the young girls who were with us and feared for their safety. The guards acted brutal in the extreme, incited to their brutal conduct towards us, . . , by the superintendent. I thought of the offense with which we had been charged,—merely that of obstructing traffic,—and felt that the treatment that we had received was out of all proportion to the offense with which we were charged, and that the superintendent, the matron and guards would not have dared to act towards us as they had acted unless they relied upon the support of higher authorities. It seemed to me that everything had been done from the time we reached the workhouse to terrorize us, and my fear lest the extreme of outrage would be worked upon the young girls of our party became intense. It is impossible for me to describe the terror of that night. . . The affidavit then continues with the story of how Mrs. Brannan was compelled the following morning to put on prison clothes, was given a cup of skimmed milk and a slice of toast, and then taken to the sewing room, where she was put to work sewing on the underdrawers of the male prisoners. I was half fainting all of that day and . . . requested permission to lie down, feeling so ill . . . . I could not sleep, having a sense of constant danger . . . . I was almost paralyzed and in wretched physical condition.