"Mr. Mitchell thought at first that the man couldn't write. It turned
out, though, that he can write--an intelligent hand, and spell good too.
Then Mitchell decided he was just sulking. But his second guess was no
better than his first. I haven't got Mitchell persuaded yet, and maybe
never will have him persuaded, but I'm confident I know the answer. The
reason he didn't fill out that card was because he couldn't remember.

"He couldn't remember where or when he was born, or who were his folks,
or where he had come from, or how he had spent his life. He knew that
'Ben,' his first name, sounded right to him, but 'Kinney' didn't--the
reason likely being that Kinney was an alias adopted during his life as
a criminal. I suppose you've noticed that queer, bewildered look he has
when any one calls him Kinney. What his real name is he doesn't know. He
can't even remember that. And the explanation is--complete loss of
memory.

"You mark my words, Howard--that man hasn't been a criminal always.
Something got wrong with his head, and he turned crook--you might say
that the criminal side that all of us has simply took possession of him.
That night in the alley he came to himself--only his mind was left a
blank not only in regard to his life as a criminal, but all that had
gone before."

"Then why don't you do something about it--besides talk? Mitchell says
you're gettin' so you talk of nothin' else."

"It's not for me to do anything about it. The man was a criminal. The
State can't go any further than that. I suppose if every man was set
free who wasn't, in the last analysis, responsible for his crimes, we