in writers and their methods. I then had no desire to write a book, nor
any thought of ever doing so.

Letters I looked upon with suspicion. I never read them at the time
they were received. I would not even open them; but generally, after a
week or sometimes a month, I would secretly open and read
them--forgeries of the detectives.

I still refused to speak, and exhibited physical activity only when the
patients were taken out of doors. For hours I would sit reading books
or newspapers, or apparently doing nothing. But my mind was in an
active state and very sensitive. As the event proved, almost everything
done or said within the range of my senses was making indelible
impressions, though these at the time were frequently of such a
character that I experienced great difficulty in trying to recall
incidents which I thought I might find useful at the time of my
appearance in court.

My ankles had not regained anything like their former strength. It hurt
to walk. For months I continued to go flat-footed. I could not sustain
my weight with heels lifted from the floor. In going downstairs I had
to place my insteps on the edge of each step, or go one step at a time,
like a child. Believing that the detectives were pampering me into
prime condition, as a butcher fattens a beast for slaughter, I
deliberately made myself out much weaker than I really was; and not a
little of my inactivity was due to a desire to prolong my fairly
comfortable existence, by deferring as long as possible the day of
trial and conspicuous disgrace.

But each day still had its distressing incidents. Whenever the