Just then the head physician came into the room and seeing me talking to a stranger walked over to us. As I said nothing, Holknecht introduced himself. The medical man began at once to enlarge upon the peculiarities of my condition. "The unknown gas," he explained, "acted upon the whole nervous system and left profound effects. Never in the records of the hospital has there been so strange a case." Holknecht seemed quite awed and completely credulous. "His memory must be revived," continued the head physician, "and that can best be done by recalling the dominating interest of his mind." "Captain Armstadt was wholly absorbed in his research work in the laboratory," offered Holknecht. "Then," said the physician, "you must revive the activity of those particular brain cells." With that command the laboratory assistant was left in charge. He took his new task quite seriously. Turning to me and raising his voice as if to penetrate my dulled mentality, he began, "Do you not remember our work in the laboratory?" "Yes, the laboratory, the laboratory," I repeated vaguely. Holknecht described the laboratory in detail and gradually his talk drifted into an account of the chemical research. I listened eagerly to get the threads of the work I must needs do if I were to maintain my role as Armstadt. Knowing now that visitors were permitted me, I again grew apprehensive over the possible advent of Katrina. But no woman appeared, in fact I had not yet seen a woman among the Germans. Always it was Holknecht and, strictly according to his orders, he talked incessant chemistry. ~5~ The day I resumed my normal wearing apparel I was shown into a large lounging room for convalescents. I seated myself a short distance apart from a group of officers and sat eyeing another group of large, hulking fellows at the far end of the room. These I concluded to be common soldiers, for I heard the officers in my ward grumbling at the fact that they were quartered in the same hospital with men of the ranks. Presently an officer came over and took a seat beside me. "It is very rarely that you men in the professional service are gassed," he said. "You must have a dull life, I do not see how you can stand it." "But certainly," I replied, "it is not so dangerous." "And for that reason it must be stupid--I, for one, think that even in the fighting forces there is no longer sufficient danger to keep up the military morale. Danger makes men courageous--without danger courage declines--and without courage what advantage would there be in the military life?" "Suppose," I suggested, "the war should come to an end?" "But how can it?" he asked incredulously. "How can there be an end to the war? We cannot prevent the enemy from fighting." "But what," I ventured, "if the enemy should decide to quit fighting?"