When the nurse sprang up she dared not move so wild were Lucy’s eyes. The Doctor, Burton, her grandfather found her standing, hair unbound, glaring wildly at what crying, lay on the floor.
“Away, you thieves!” she screamed, and motioned to the door.
“You have robbed me of my babe, and left that in its stead.” She pointed at the object on the floor.
Her grandfather pallid, tottering, moved toward her.
“Back, old man, back! You stole my child away,” she yelled, her blazing eyes filled with insane rage and hate.
“My God! She is mad,” the Doctor cried, and rushing forward caught her as she fell.
“Thank God! She has fainted; help me place her on the bed.”
Burton, petrified by the awfulness of the scene had until that moment stood like some ghastly, reeling statue, now in an automatic manner he came forward and helped the Doctor place her on the bed.
“Look to Mr. Dunlap,” cried the Doctor but ere anyone could reach him the old man fell forward, crashing on the floor; a stroke of paralysis had deadened and benumbed his whole right side.
Chapman was told next day that James Dunlap was dying. Then, for the first and only time in the life of David Chapman, he disobeyed an order given by a Dunlap and sent the message to Haiti.