One morning, about three weeks after Mr. Cooley's spectacular arrest of the runaways at the Jersey ferry, Superintendent Spencer was seated at his desk in the general reception room at "Sea Rest," dictating reports to a young woman stenographer. There was little about the surroundings to suggest the sinister character of the place. Only the heavily barred windows, overlooking the grounds enclosed by high walls, and the massive doors fitted with ponderous bolts and locks suggested that padded cells with wild-eyed inmates might be found in some other part of the establishment. Otherwise it was an ordinary, everyday business office. The large desk near the window was covered with ledgers and papers, while close at hand was a telephone and clicking typewriter. To the left of the desk a small, narrow door led to the wards. On the right a heavy door opened on the vestibule and grounds. The superintendent himself was a clean-shaven man of about thirty-five. Alert-looking and well groomed, he had the energetic manner of the successful business man. Mechanically, as if it were a matter of tiresome routine, to be hurried through as speedily as possible, he went on dictating in a monotonous tone: "Report on Miss Manderson's case. Attendant, Miss Hadley; physician, Dr. Bently. Patient's demand for stimulants decreasing, but she calls constantly for bridge-playing companions. Patient generally cheerful--will not retire till 3 A. M. Six packages of cigarettes in her room----" Buzz! buzz! A disc fell down on the indicator on the wall, disclosing a number. The superintendent turned quickly and, glancing at the indicator, pressed a button in his desk. This released a bolt in the door leading to the outer hall, a safeguard necessary to prevent reckless patients from wandering outside to help themselves without permission to the fresh air. The big door swung open and an old man, bent with age, entered. "Ah, Collins--I wanted to see you!" said the superintendent sharply. Seized with an attack of coughing, the old man could not reply at once. For thirty years he had been an inmate. When a man is going on eighty, he is not as vigorous as he once was. Formerly a waiter at Delmonico's, he found the pace too swift. His mind gave way, and a rich patron, pitying his condition, sent him to "Sea Rest." For a long time now he had been cured, but, broken in spirit, he found he could not return to the old life, so he had remained at the asylum in the capacity of attendant. "Yes--sir," he gasped, between spasms of coughing. The superintendent looked at him severely: "Collins, did you buy six packets of cigarettes for Miss Manderson?" The old man cowered. He was afraid of the superintendent. He had reason to dread those cold douches. "No, sir," he replied, trembling. "Are you sure?" demanded the superintendent. "Yes, sir," answered the old man hesitatingly, his eyes on the floor. "Look at me," thundered the superintendent. "Yes, sir."