Meanwhile, my friend had not stopped trying to convince me that my
apparent relatives were not spurious; so one day I said to him: "If my
relatives still live in New Haven, their addresses must be in the
latest New Haven Directory. Here is a list containing the names and
former addresses of my father, brother, and uncle. These were their
addresses in 1900. To-morrow, when you go out, please see whether they
appear in the New Haven Directory for 1902. These persons who present
themselves to me as relatives pretend to live at these addresses. If
they speak the truth, the 1902 Directory will corroborate them. I shall
then have hope that a letter sent to any one of these addresses will
reach relatives--and surely some attention will be paid to it."

The next day, my own good detective went to a local publishing house
where directories of important cities throughout the country could be
consulted. Shortly after he went upon this errand, my conservator
appeared. He found me walking about the lawn. At his suggestion we sat
down. Bold in the assurance that I could kill myself before the crisis
came, I talked with him freely, replying to many of his questions and
asking several. My conservator, who did not know that I doubted his
identity, commented with manifest pleasure on my new-found readiness to
talk. He would have been less pleased, however, had he been able to
read my mind.

Shortly after my conservator's departure, my fellow-patient returned
and informed me that the latest New Haven Directory contained the names
and addresses I had given him. This information, though it did not
prove that my morning caller was no detective, did convince me that my
real brother still lived where he did when I left New Haven, two years
earlier. Now that my delusions were growing weaker, my returning reason