"I don't know," she answered. "I don't know where I am." I kneeled down at her side and put my arms about her. "Jacqueline, dear;" I said, "will you not try to think? I am Paul--your friend Paul. Do you not remember me?" "No, monsieur," she sighed. "But, then, how did you come here, Jacqueline?" I asked. "I do not know," she answered. And, a moment later, "I do not know, Paul." That encouraged me a little. Evidently she remembered what I had just said to her. "Where is your home, Jacqueline?" "I do not know," she answered in an apathetic voice, devoid of interest. There was something more to be said, though it was hard. "Jacqueline, who--was--that?" "Who?" she inquired, looking at me with the same patient, wistful gaze. "That man, Jacqueline. That dead man." "What dead man, Paul?" She was staring straight at the body, and at that moment I realized that she not only did not remember, but did not even see it. The shock which she had received, supervening upon the nervous state in which she had been when I encountered her, had produced one of those mental inhibitions in which the mind, to save the reason, obliterates temporarily not only all memory of the past, but also all present sights and sounds which may serve to recall it. She looked idly at the body of the dead man, and I was sure that she saw nothing but the worn woodwork of the floor. I saw that it was useless to say anything more upon this subject. "You are very tired, Jacqueline?" I asked. "Yes, _monsieur_," she answered, leaning back against my arm. "And you would like to sleep?" "Yes, _monsieur_." I raised her in my arms and laid her on the bed, telling her to close her eyes and sleep. She was asleep almost immediately after her head rested Upon the pillow. She breathed as softly as an infant. I watched her for a while until I heard a distant clock strike three. This recalled me to the dangers of our situation. I struck a match and lit the gas in the bedroom. But the yellow glare was so ghastly and intolerable that I turned it down. And then I set about the task before me. CHAPTER III COVERING THE TRACKS I thought quickly, and my consciousness seemed to embrace all the details of the situation with a keenness foreign to my nature. Once, I believe, I had been able to play an active part among the men who were my associates in that adventurous life that lay so far behind me. But eight years of clerkship had reduced me to the condition of one who waits on the command of others. Now my irresolution vanished for the time, and I was my old self once more. The first task was the disposal of the body in such a way that suspicion would not attach itself to me after I had vacated the rooms next morning.