Jump to content

The Strange Experiences of Tina Malone/Chapter 12

From Wikisource

CHAPTER XII.

THE "SECRET SERVICE" AND THE HURRIED DOCTOR.

All the way to Kitty's I was telepathing to this being I thought was Tony.

There were many "voices" now and among them I seemed to hear Sybil's and her mother's and the voice of Dr. Morton and someone else's—a nurse or sister.

I wondered if Sybil were ill and had a professional nurse in attendance—Sybil and her mother seemed to be discussing me—I suppose they heard me telepathing to poor mad Tony. They seemed to be deciding whether I were not always a "little queer." I told them I could hear what they said and Sybil then said that they had better be careful what they said for I was clairaudient. Then I heard Sybil's mother saying how sweet and gentle she thought I always was. Then I heard the indignant Sister's voice, saying that she had known me well years before and that they must say no ill of me for she would neither hear nor believe it.

And all this time, while these voices threw words at each other in some hidden world, I was struggling up the paddock only longing for the Voice of Silence. Then I heard Sybil's mother say:

"No, I will not believe it is she until I see if Kitty meets her. I love Kitty and I know so well her gentle ways. If I hear Kitty's voice I will know it is Tina."

Then followed the most terrible thing.

Little by little fears came crowding into my mind.

Kitty gave me the verandah room to sleep in, but though I kept telling her I was hearing "voices" she would only look sorry and change the subject.

So I resolved to keep things to myself.

They knew nothing of all I was going through. All they knew was that I was there, very absent minded, listening to those voices which they could not hear, so how could they know what I suffered.

And then the voices grew quicker—more crowded.

They told me I was in the Secret Service, that a motorcar was to come for me, was on the way then; that another was to follow with Sybil and her mother and Dr. Morton, that they were coming to save. Then I heard Mont Jones' voice giving his telephone number and telling me to ring up quickly, and he gave me a catch-word, saying "Molly and the children," to use, and his telephone number, which I knew.

With the old terrible vibrating feeling on me, and with a confusion of fears crowding in my mind, with all the voices going as if giving excited chase to something, I begged my sister to ring up for me.

Then, just as I was ready to ring up, a voice would say, "Stand away from the telephone"—and again I was frantic with fear.

This went on all the evening. Then I heard another voice I knew, of a man, who was calm and wise, telling Mont Jones not to make a fool of himself—for I imagined Mont stamping and saying silly things but showing himself my friend.

But still the confusion of sounds went on and they terrified me into believing they were chasing me and could see all my movements.

They would say:

"If you touch that fence I will know you are Tina Malone," just as I was going to touch it. Then when I held back they said "If you don't touch that fence I'll know you are Tina Malone." How they knew my name I don't know.

Then came:

"Don't stand in the light," "Keep away from the telephone," and then someone advised me to be ready for them in the middle of the night and they were to take me away but I was to keep the first people waiting till the second motor came up to save.

What it was all about I don't know, but my heart was beating hard, I could pay no attention to what my people were saying because I was too busy listening to all the voices.

In vain they tried to attract my attention and divert me from these "foolish fancies."

And then the lights were put out and they went to bed.

I knew it was no use. They could not understand the "voices." And the voices were still telling me to be ready to be carried off at midnight and I imagined the two motors racing to get there first.

So I went to bed in my clothes and in the dark, terrified that I might be seen, and at last I fell asleep—they did not come.

The next day my sister asked me if I would not like to go to a "Rest Home." She told me she had known a woman who had heard "voices" and had been so thankful to be there that she did not want to come out again.

Furiously and terrified, I rebelled.

"No," I said, "I will go back to my rooms again!"

So go back to my rooms I did and arrived there to find them desolate, and to remember that the next day was Christmas Eve.

And then I remembered Tony.

I had forgotten to write to him about the theatre and he had taken seats.

The horror of it—the unkindness—the rudeness all came over me at once.

I wrote and told him.

And then came Xmas Eve, and Tony came at tea time.

For the first time for four years I had forgotten Tony at Christmas time. I had asked him to tea, and together we sat there—a forlorn pair.

He was sorry for me I could see. He had brought me "Towards Democracy," and from my wall I took down one of the pictures I loved and gave it to him.

No, we could not make it out.

We were so tired, both of us, of my repeated wonder as to where I could turn for help and what it all meant.

I said:

"I'm sure it's hypnotism, Tony."

"Then it will get back on the hypnotist," said Tony with a fierceness that he seldom showed.

He could not stay long for he had other places to go to, but as he said "good-night" he turned away.

"It doesn't seem like Christmas," he said.

He had to leave town again for a few days.

The voices never left me. What had become of the madman I don't know but I saw it had not been Tony.

Yet once more they began again, and again I imagined it was Tony and that his friend was afraid of bringing him home because he might be put in an asylum.

Quite determined that this should not be the case, I put on my hat and after telepathing that I would get Sybil to go down with me to the wharf to meet him, I put on my hat to go over to see her.

With my heart beating fast with anxiety I opened my front door.

And there stood Tony just coming in at the gate!

"Where are you going?" he said.

I caught my breath and looked at him in wonder.

Hating to give myself away as a fool I said I had just been going out but nowhere in particular.

I couldn't very well tell him I was going to meet him on his stretcher on the wharf to prevent his being put in a lunatic asylum.

So he came back with me and we had afternoon tea.

He wanted to take me to the theatre again on New Year's Eve.

But again I had to run away, chased by the voices, and to tell him I could not enjoy the theatre till they had gone.

Poor Tony! He tried so hard to help me! Still wondering at the cause, he asked if I would let him tell me of a Psychic Healer and see if she could give me relief.

So we arranged for her to come.

But in the meantime the voices were so bad and saying indecent and terrible things that I took matters into my own hands.

One morning early I went across to Sybil.

The maid told me that she had been up all night and would come down as soon as she was dressed.

This time there was no laughter in her eyes.

I told her my trouble. She took me out to the verandah as if she did not like to stay in the house.

But I could not tell her all. I told her of the indecent things the voices were saying to me and said I meant to go to Dr. Morton's again.

She said, "Would you like me to come with you?"

I said "no," I would go alone.

So I went to Dr. Morton's and waited there with two other people in his waiting-room.

"You know what I've come for?" I began as he showed me into his consulting-room. "The voices are still going on and they are saying the most insulting things not only about me but about my friends."

"Did you go to Dr. Alward as I advised your sisters?" he asked impatiently.

"No, I did not," I said.

I knew my sister had rung up one day for his advice and he had suggested Dr. Alward, who was a nerve doctor who generally clapped his patients into an asylum till he had time to give them his whole attention.

"Well, I should advise you to go into a mental hospital to be looked after. The easiest way to go about it is to go to the nearest reception house saying you are feeling sick," he said.

"Now, you just write that down for me," I said. "Is that what you'd do yourself under the same circumstances?"

He looked a little puzzled and as if he were rather surprised at himself.

"Just write that down for me," I said.

Obediently he took a piece of his paper from his desk, and was taking a pen when I held out my hand.

"No, you dictate it to me," I said.

So looking vaguely puzzled he dictated it and with a laugh I rose and began to talk.

"Don't let him sign it," said a voice.

"You're wasting my time," he said. "Go to Dr. Alward."

"Now, you're not yourself," I said. "I'm going to come back to you someday and show you what you've said."

He pushed back his hair, looked still dazed and troubled, and had the impudence to hold out his hand to me as he opened the door.

But though I laughed at the idiocy of the situation, I scornfully refused to see his hand, and passed out.

To Bessie's I went and showed her what the doctor had dictated.

She exclaimed indignantly.

"Would you like me to do that?" I asked.

"No, I should think not."

"Would you let me be put there?"

"No. Don't be silly. Of course not," she said.

"Well, then, come with me this afternoon while I show him what he has written," I said.

"Oh, Tina! I'm busy—I can't go."

No, no one had time for me, and no one seemed able to help me. Still the fears and the indecent language were haunting and taunting me and I brought my things up and took a room in the same house as Bessie, for I was afraid to stay in my rooms at night. The night before I went over to Sybil's I was so terrified that someone would appear in his astral body that I kept my gas alight all night.

But Bessie did not understand. She, too, told me I must get rid of the idea that I heard voices.

And then mother came.

When the automatic writing came I had asked her why it was me she had come to, me, and not the others. On the paper came the words "Because you need me most."

I needed her then, poor mother. She would not have let me go home alone.