Passaic City Record

A COOL HEADED GIRL.

It all happened several years ago. I had been out to St. Paul for a month or two, and started home about the middle of September, taking with me my little eight-year-old cousin Harry. We left at midnight on the vestibule special. Early next morning, owing to some accident to the brakes of the Pullman we were in, the trainmen had to drop it off at a siding and take on an ordinary coach in its place as far as Chicago, and we were transferred to this coach.

Strangely enough, there was only one other lady beside myself among the through passengers that day, most of them being men and boys. One by one these drifted off to the smoker, until the young lady and Harry and I were the only occupants of the car. Before long the young lady changed her seat to the one just across the aisle from me, and we were soon well started on the round of conventional small talk suitable to the occasion. I noticed that she wore the Vassar class-pin and college colors, and when I spoke of it she informed me that she was then on her way back for her last year at school. She was a very bright and entertaining conversationalist, and we talked awhile on various subjects; then we exchanged books and papers and read to pass away the time, and finally my companion, whom I will call Miss Hunter-chiefly for the reason that it is very unlike her real name-remarked that she had not slept well the night before, and would try to get a nap.

She had been sleeping some time when a gentleman entered the coach from the smoker, and took the seat just in front of Harry and me. He had no hat, either on his head or in his hand, but was otherwise well dressed; so I supposed he had left his hat or travelling cap in the other coach, and gave no further thought to the matter. Presently he turned around and asked me if I could accommodate him with the time of day. I glanced at my watch and told him, thinking it a little odd that he should be obliged to appeal to an unknown young woman on the subject. He thanked me with rather elaborate courtesy, looking at me fixedly the while; then he remarked, suddenly, "Mademoiselle, I believe you would be a good subject for that brain experiment I have in mind. I have for a long time held the theory that the human brain undergoes certain well-defined changes, both in substance and in color, at the moment of dissolution -- not some hours afterward, but at the very instant death takes place. I have repeatedly tried to make the experiment necessary to verify my ideas, but some ignoramus has always managed to prevent me heretofore; because, you see, in order to experiment successfully it is, of course, first necessary to kill the subject. You, mademoiselle, look like a young woman of sense, and will no doubt appreciate the immense scientific value of the operation sufficiently to be willing to submit to its incidental unpleasantness. It's really not so very unpleasant after all, and it's over in a second-this little instrument is double-loaded to make sure work of it." As he said this he whipped out a pistol and clapped it against my left temple. Then, with a sudden change of voice, he added: "I give you just two minutes, mademoiselle, to say your prayers and prepare for death."

I was so dazed by the man's extraordinary speech that I had not at first realized that I was in the power of a madman. But now the horrible truth flashed upon me, and faint and trembling, I dared not move or speak. Miss Hunter had been wakened by the sound of the lunatic's voice and heard most of what he had been saying. Once she made a furtive movement to leave the car, intending to go to the smoker and give warning, but the maniac had his eye on her and instantly ordered her back. Realizing that she would only precipitate the danger for me by persisting, she obeyed and returned to her seat. But in a moment she again rose, and crossing the aisle, deliberately seated herself by me. Touching the man lightly on the arm, she said in a perfectly natural tone: "Pardon me, sir, but I am really surprised that you should think it necessary to submit a lady to such inconvenience in order to prove what has already been proved by one of the foremost brain specialists of the age. Is it possible you have not read Professor Virchow's recent treatise on this very subject, in which he has demonstrated by empiric methods that this 'theory' of yours, as you call it, is no longer a theory, but actual fact?"

The madman slowly lowered the pistol, and turned squarely toward Miss Hunter. "Is that true? I have heard nothing of it; and," he added roughly, "I don't believe it!" "Well, really I am quite fortunate, then, to have the means of verifying my statement at hand," said Miss Hunter, turning around as if in search of something. "How provoking!" she exclaimed, after a moment, "I forgot I had left my satchel with my brother in the other car. You see, I am somewhat interested in matters of this kind, and it happens that I have this very treatise in my satchel, as well as papers containing press comments. But how can I get it? Oh! I have it! I'll just send Harry with a note to my brother. Wait one moment and I'll have it ready."

Taking a small note-book from her pocket she rapidly wrote a few lines and signed her name. Then, leaving a little space, she wrote a line or two below, and tore the leaf across the blank space in the middle. On the upper half she had written:

Dear Will: Please look in my satchel and find Prof. Virchow's book. "Latest: Experiments of a Brain Specialist." and send it to me by Harry.

Lillie.

On the lower half was written:

Madman in the rear car. Get help and come quickly.

J. Hunter.

The first note she held up so that the man could read it, saying: "That's what Professor Virchow calls his new work. Perhaps, after all, it's not so very strange you haven't heard of it, for it hasn't been out very long." Then, with a clever sleight-of-hand movement, she substituted the note she had written last for the one she had just shown the madman, and, concealing that under her muff, she gave Harry the other note and told him to take it to Uncle Will. "You can easily find him, dear; he is the last seat at the other end of the car."

Now Harry is a great boy to ask questions; in fact, this propensity has earned for him the soubriquet of Inquisitor-General. I scarcely dared breathe lest his inordinate desire for information should on this occasion impel him to propound some inconvenient questions concerning the identity of this mythical Uncle Will. But no! He took the note and walked off without a word. He was always a bright little chap and he had not been slow to "take in" the leading features of our situation.

As we afterwards heard, he didn't waste time in hunting up any particular man at the other end of the car, but gave the note to the first man he came to, who immediately raised the alarm and went in search of the conductor.

In the meanwhile Miss Hunter kept up a series of brilliant and erudite remarks on the interesting subject of peculiarities of cerebral organization with the sang froid of an old and experienced specialist, while the madman listened moodily, all the while fingering that pistol in a way that sent cold chills racing down my back.

We had not long to wait. Soon the door opened and four men came softly in. She saw them of course, but Miss Hunter kept on talking, and gave no sign of their approach to the lunatic, who, facing us, had his back to the door. The men managed to get nearly halfway up to us without attracting his attention, but he heard them at last, and looking round, he uttered a fearful yell, sprang to his feet, and pointing the pistol at my head, fired. Just in time, the brave girl struck his hand aside, and the bullet passed harmlessly through the car window.

The men sprang forward, and after a terrific struggle overpowered and led him away. He was afterward identified as a crazy physician who had been for some months confined in a private asylum, near St. Paul. Several times he had nearly killed his keeper, and was regarded as one of the most dangerous maniacs ever received at the institution. He had broken loose the night before, and cunningly succeeded in boarding the train as it pulled out, without arousing the suspicion of any one. -The Voice.