drunk or crazy, but did not credit a single word I said."

"That was but natural," said Uncle John.

"After breakfast I took stock of myself. In my pockets I found a
twenty-dollar bill and some silver. I wore a watch and chain and a ring
set with a good-sized diamond. My clothing seemed good, but the ditch
had soiled it. I had no hat, nor could the farmer find one when I sent
him back to look for it. My mind was not wholly a blank; I seemed to
have a fair knowledge of life, and when the farmer mentioned New York
the city seemed familiar to me. But in regard to myself, my past
history--even my name--I was totally ignorant. All personal
consciousness dated from the moment I woke up in the ditch."

"How wonderful!" exclaimed Louise.

"And you haven't solved the mystery yet, after two years?" asked Patsy.

"No, Miss Doyle. I hired the farmer to drive me to the railway station,
where I took the train to New York. I seemed to know the city, but no
recollection guided me to home or friends. I went to a small hotel,
took a room, and began to read all the newspapers, seeking to discover
if anyone was reported missing. The sight of automobiles led me to
conceive the theory that I had been riding in one of those machines
along a country road when something threw me out. My head might have
struck a stump or stone and the blow rendered me insensible. Something
in the nature of the thing, or in my physical condition, deprived me of
all knowledge of the past. Since then I have read of several similar
cases. The curious thing about my own experience was that I could find
no reference to my disappearance, in any way, nor could I learn of any