that--but I tell you to-night, Alvin Mulrady," he said, raising his
voice to a hoarse outcry, "I tell you that it is a lie! I came to
my senses a week after I lay on that hospital cot; I kept my senses
and memory ever after during the three years that I was there,
until Harry brought his cold, hypocritical face to my bedside and
recognized me. Do you understand? I, the possessor of millions,
lay there a pauper. Deserted by wife and children--a spectacle for
the curious, a sport for the doctors--AND I KNEW IT! I heard them
speculate on the cause of my helplessness. I heard them talk of
excesses and indulgences--I, that never knew wine or woman! I
heard a preacher speak of the finger of God, and point to me. May
God curse him!"

"Go slow, old man; go slow," said Mulrady, gently.

"I heard them speak of me as a friendless man, an outcast, a
criminal--a being whom no one would claim. They were right; no one
claimed me. The friends of others visited them; relations came and
took away their kindred; a few lucky ones got well; a few, equally
lucky, died! I alone lived on, uncared for, deserted.

"The first year," he went on more rapidly, "I prayed for their
coming. I looked for them every day. I never lost hope. I said
to myself, 'She has not got my letter; but when the time passes she
will be alarmed by my silence, and then she will come or send some
one to seek me.' A young student got interested in my case, and,
by studying my eyes, thought that I was not entirely imbecile and
unconscious. With the aid of an alphabet, he got me to spell my
name and town in Illinois, and promised by signs to write to my
family. But in an evil moment I told him of my cursed fortune, and