"A lunatic does not necessarily rave or carry the ordinary signs of rending passion," began Oakes as he turned a quiet face of acknowledgment toward Dr. Moore. "The one who hears voices, real to him, but really arising in the diseased mechanism of his own brain--ordering him to be a martyr, a saviour of his country, or to spend the millions he imagines he possesses, is usually melancholy, reserved, cautious, ever on the watch, deceptive, but doubtful sometimes as to his own brain-workings. "Likewise, the man who possesses the homicidal mania may be cautious and quiet--to the ordinary observer a normal citizen. But the aura of insanity is around him; he lives and moves and deceives, and hides from the outside world the words that come to him day or night--the words that arise not in the voice of a living man, but in his own diseased mind. The sufferer says nothing of the voices that tell him he is persecuted--that the world's hands are against him. By accident, in a moment of unwariness, he may reveal that he hears such voices; but it is an even chance that he will be laughed at and the warning fall on ears that fail to understand. He is considered a 'crank.' "Then the unfortunate shrinks more into himself, becomes absolutely dominated by the ideas and commands generated in his own false mind. He may become violent by degrees, may scare and haunt the places where he believes himself abused; and all the while the voices tell him he is foolish, being put upon, and finally he becomes controlled by the delusion that he is being persecuted. Then perhaps suddenly comes the incentive, usually a command of false origin within his own brain, that makes the worm turn that reveals to the world that he is a maniac--a 'killer.' He hears the word 'kill,' and his mind, no longer even suspicions of its own disease as it was at first, becomes frenzied. He sometimes attacks openly, but usually does so secretively, with the cunning of the tiger, and kills and slaughters. Then he returns to his dreams--quiet, satisfied, spent." Oakes paused. "You understand, Hallen," he said, "I am no expert; but such cases have come to my notice--it is not easy for me to explain more fully." "Go on," was Hallen's answer; "go on, sir. I am deeply interested--it amazes me." The Chief showed his words were those of genuine interest and surprise. "The insane man leads a dual life," continued Oakes, "perhaps for a long time. Such a man is not yet an inmate of an asylum. His case is unrecognized--he is a soul battling with madness until some awful tragedy occurs, like that of Mona, to reveal his greatest of all misfortunes--the loss of reason." We were all silent when Oakes finished speaking. Not a man there but now recognized and realized more fully what we had been fighting against. Then Hallen rose and looked at Oakes, then at all of us.