The freezer in No. 10 police-station is a very warm place—an iron cage set up on a platform in a large stone room; said cage being made of iron bars, set three inches apart, with iron floor; the furniture consisting of just two pieces, a wooden bench and an iron bucket. This cage is open on all sides. “So as to give ventilation,” I was told by the officer who helped me up the steps. He remarked as the grated door swung to with a snap, “Oh, now me charmer, you will feel at home, for you have been here many a time afore. Oh, we knows you, we do. If yer wants anything jist tech the ’lectric bell.”

This kind of cell, I am told by those who have tried both, is much worse to be dreaded than a dungeon. Open on all sides, the light is glaring; and any one coming into the room, can walk around the cage, viewing the unhappy prisoner from every side.

It was eleven o’clock Sunday morning when I was locked up, and about every hour an officer came in and looked at me as though I were a wild beast. Once two men came together, and stood carrying on a joking conversation between themselves. One seemed to be a philosopher, for as they went out I heard him say, “It beats the devil to what depths a woman falls when she does go wrong!”

At six o’clock the captain came in, and he seemed more gentlemanly and considerate than any of the officers I had seen. He took off his cap, and leaning against the bars of my cage, said,

“Now, you woman, I am awful sorry for you and am going to help you out of this scrape. I know all about you just as well or better than you know yourself. In fact, your partner, the old man, has given the whole thing away—made a clear confess, don’t you know—and he will have to go down. Now if you will make a clean breast of it all, we can let you off. We already know all about it, but want you to confess just for a formality so as to lay the case before the judge, who is an awful tender-hearted man and does just as I tell him. Now, lady, what do you say? Come, now, shall I unlock that cage and take you in the office where we can write it all out? Come, now, why don’t you speak, haven’t you any tongue? Well, you are the queerest woman! Can’t talk—eh? Oh! well, it’s no difference to me of course. I just wanted to do you a favor, but you have about as much gratitude as most of the rest of the soiled doves. All right, you needn’t say a word if you don’t want to. Hey, you there, Murphy, don’t let anybody see this gal. Bread and water will do, too. She ain’t any appetite. Do you hear?—I’m going now, miss. If you have anything to say now is your time; but if you prefer to have the cage locked for a week or so, why I ’spose you must have your own way. We’re allus willing to oblige our guests, you know. Can’t even say thank you, can you?” (Hesitates at the door—looks back and goes).

Bang went the outside door and I was alone for the night—my only company four electric lights, which made a dazzling glare. I lay down on the bench and tried to sleep. Then I tried the floor. At last I propped the bench against the bars, and half-seated, half-reclining, the long hours passed as a fitful nightmare.

I have since learned that when Martha Heath saw me in the patrol-wagon she hastened straight to the station-house, but they told her I was not there, and showed her the blotter showing the name of “Mary Roe”—Bilkson having explained that my right name was unknown, and further by keeping a prisoner very close they are more apt to confess.

Martha insisted on seeing Mary Roe, who they said was asleep and must not be disturbed. “Call to-morrow,” they said. Martha still insisted, until the captain bawled out to the doorman, “Hey, you, have you got a vacant cell for this crazy woman?” Martha was not to be frightened by such a threat so she said, “All right, put me in a cell! I dare you to! I’m no better than Aspasia Hobbs, and you have locked her up.” The captain took the persistent Martha by the arm, and led her to the door and showed her down the steps.

The good girl saw she was powerless, and as my mother knew nothing about the matter she concluded to wait until Monday morning and then stir heaven and earth if needs be to get me out.

Monday morning, bright and early, Mr. Bilkson and Mr. Woodbur walked arm in arm down South Division street, to the cottage of Mrs. Hobbs, and Grimes showed them into the little parlor. Mrs. Hobbs entered, delighted to think two such eminent gentlemen should call on her; and in her joy she forgot the time of day, and believed it was only a social call, for on Delaware Avenue callers were constant. What is the matter with South Division street?

Both gentlemen shook hands with the widow. Then they whispered together. Then Woodbur said,

“Mr. Bilkson, will you please oblige the lady and also myself by assuming a standing position?”

Bilkson obeyed.

“Mr. Bilkson, now will you further oblige us by opening your mouth?”

Bilkson’s face opened in half, and revealed to the now thoroughly astonished woman a very lacerated set of gums and absence of front teeth.

“That will do, Mr. Bilkson. Now your eye.”

Mr. Bilkson removed the bandage from his left eye, and revealed a symphony in black, blue and yellow, shaded with green.

“That will do, Mr. Bilkson—be seated.”

Woodbur still remained standing in tragic attitude, with his right hand thrust in the bosom of his buttoned coat. Suddenly raising his voice he shouted,

“Madame, it was your daughter who done this—your daughter! Yes, madame, your daughter! Ah, you doubt it; but I have the proof, madame, the proof!” and he drew forth a copy of the Morning Times on which the ink was scarcely dry and read in a deep sepulchral voice the article which I have already mentioned, “Beauty’s Blowout,” etc.

Among his other accomplishments Mr. Woodbur was an elocutionist, and Grimes afterward told me that he read the article so effectively and with such fierce looks directed over the top of the paper at Mrs. Hobbs, that at the last words the good lady fell in hysterics on the sofa, screaming:

“Oh, my daughter, my adopted daughter! why did you do this? Why did you do it? Disgraced us! You have disgraced us! I, who before we bust, when we lived on the avenue, furnished you a chiropodist, and an elocootionist, and a manicure, and the best pew in the Rev. Doctor Fourthly’s! I, who educated you, and cared for you, and never let you go to the public but always sent you to a private school, and taught you dancing, French and music, and gave tiddle de winks and progressive eucher parties in your honor! Oh, why, w-w-w-h-y—d-d-did you do i-t-t-t!”

Dr. Bolus was hastily sent for and administered morphine and whisky. When my mother had been quieted (Woodbur and Bilkson had in the meantime departed), the doctor called in Grimes and demanded the reason of this row which had so unnerved Mrs. Hobbs.

“Some dam lie about ’Pasia that is in the paper,” said Grimes. “Two devils with high hats was here—one had no teeth—and they read the paper at Mrs. Hobbs’ head so she just throws up her hands and yells and yells and cries and shouts and thanks God that ’Pasia ain’t her own child. And then she cries agin and so she kep’ it up ’till you come.”

“Why, why this is queer, very strange! Two—what did you say they were that read the paper, Grimes? Strange!—Say, you black cub” (calling to a colored boy holding his horse at the door) “get up town, as quick as you can and get me a Times. Don’t play marbles on the way, or I’ll slice you up for a subject.”

The boy soon returned with the paper, and the doctor quickly adjusted his glasses and read the article. He dropped the paper from his hands and sat in amazement.

“It’s acute dementia, combined with melancholia! I knew it all along—hereditary! Who were her parents, Mrs. Hobbs? Ah, yes, you don’t know. That proves it—hereditary! Takes to crime like a duck to water. Why, she’s crazy, that’s all, Mrs. Hobbs, crazy as a bed bug! Now take these powders as I told you, Mrs. Hobbs—but then, we ought to get the girl out though. What’s that! Great God! She killed Bilkson did you say? Why didn’t you tell me five minutes ago that Bilkson was here? Oh, I see; she tried to kill him. That is different.”

“And it’s a pity she didn’t succeed!” broke in Grimes, who was standing in the doorway.

“Will you shut up, you old fool!” shouted the doctor. “How impertinent servants are getting now-a-days! Never mind, Grimesy, you don’t know any better. I’ll be here with my double carriage at one o’clock, and we will all go up and get Aspasia out. Oh, I say, Grimes, if the old lady has ’em again just put the powders in the whisky and give her a tablespoonful every ten minutes until she lets up—hear?”