“Cannot you guess? I did not tell you lest you should wish to send me away. I distinctly remember my boyhood’s friends--my cousin Margaret--my beautiful home at Crayford--and in spirit I am but seventeen years old. There is nothing peculiar about the sensation, but I have no wish to return home until the threads of the remaining years are gathered together, though I am naturally curious to know that my business affairs are being carefully attended to. I am even wishing to look upon the woman who wrought such havoc in my life, though I have nothing but contempt for her and for myself.” He laughed lightly, and Hamilton said: “This is just what I expected, Sir Harold. You spoke of a cousin Margaret a moment or two ago. Would you not like to send for her?” “No,” was the energetic reply; “I only remember her as a child of twelve years old. She must be a woman now. No, I do not wish to see her or any one else until my mind has regained its normal state. I prefer things as they are. I am perfectly content, and while Theresa is near, this little home is paradise!” “Wait, wait,” said Mr. Hamilton. “I will not give my consent yet.” “Hark! Theresa is coming!” Sir Harold exclaimed. “I hear her voice in the garden.” He turned and ran to meet her like a happy schoolboy. CHAPTER XII. COLONEL GREYSON’S VISIT. That very day Mr. Hamilton had an unexpected visitor, and he knew at once that the friends of Sir Harold had discovered his retreat. He met the intruder at the garden gate, and Colonel Greyson (for it was he) regarded him suspiciously. “Good-morning, sir,” Hamilton said. “Good-morning,” was the gruff rejoinder. “You have a gentleman staying here, I believe?” “Yes, sir. Sir Harold Annesley is here. Do you wish to see him?” “One moment, my friend. A detective has traced him. I trust that you have not detained him against his will?” “On the other hand, sir, I cannot persuade him to leave,” replied Hamilton, with dignity. “I have heard that he met with an accident that paralyzed his memory. No matter how I obtained the information--there is the substance of it. Now answer me truthfully, Mr.--Mr.----” “Hamilton,” was the calm reply, although the old musician strongly resented the brusque, condemnatory manner of his interlocutor. “Your information is perfectly correct. May I ask, sir, who and what you are?” The colonel bent upon him a ferocious glance. “I? My name is Greyson--Colonel Greyson. I have known Sir Harold since he was a mere boy of twenty. I succeeded to the co-trusteeship of his business and social welfare when his natural guardian died. I have traced him here, and will be responsible for him, while I may have to hold you responsible for his detention!” “I am prepared to meet any reasonable question you may think fit to put to me,” was the haughty reply; “but I object to this bluster.” “Why did you not send for his friends? Why has he not received proper medical treatment?”