“I’ll bet you a thousand dollars,” he cried, “that Locke and that crook were talking together before the smash came. That smash must have knocked everything out of Locke’s head. He’d been going a bit wrong for some time before that, and that might be the very thing to put him all to the bad. Why, do you know, some of the fellows even thought he’d taken to drinking. I’ve an idea I really know what’s at the bottom of the whole trouble.” “Then you’ll be mighty valuable in straightening this mess out,” said Kennedy. “What was at the bottom of it?” Stillman then told them of Lefty’s deep interest in Janet Harting, and explained how the misunderstanding between them had been caused by Locke’s innocent attentions to the daughter of the new owner of the Blue Stockings. “I beg your pardon,” interrupted Doctor Hetner excitedly. “I think I can see a method of straightening the man out and bringing back his memory. If I had a picture of that girl――the one he’s really struck on――” “I’ve got it,” laughed the reporter. “Say, I scented a corking old news story in this affair, and so I just took care to get Miss Janet Harting’s photograph, as well as one of Miss Virginia Collier. By the way, there’s a fourth party mixed up in the business――a young man by the name of Franklin Parlmee. It seems that he had a case on Collier’s daughter, and they quarreled. It didn’t seem to shake her much, but he was raw as a flea-bitten pup, and he didn’t lose an opportunity to soak Locke to old man Collier.” “Something of a romance, I declare!” said Doctor Hetner. “You say you have Miss Harting’s photograph? Have you brought it with you?” “Sure!” “Will you let me have it?” “You bet, if you’ll return it. I wouldn’t lose it for anything. If I write the story――” “It’s an interesting story,” said the doctor, “and I suppose you’ll write it, anyhow, being a reporter.” CHAPTER XLII FAILURE Kennedy found Locke, and brought him to that room, where the young southpaw was met by Stillman, while the doctor and landlord looked on. “Of course you remember me,” said the reporter, wringing Locke’s unresponsive hand. “You know how I got the proof on Elgin, and showed him up to Brennan. I knew you’d make good in the Big League, and I never lost a chance to say so.” “It’s mighty good of you to talk like this,” returned Locke, “but you wouldn’t if you knew how you confuse me. If I’m the man you think me to be, how is it I only remember that my name is Robert Stranger, and that on account of my health I came out into the country to get a job on a farm?” “Pink Kelly, a card sharp, crook, and con man, was talking to you just before that railroad smash-up. Sometimes Kelly went by the name of Bob Stranger. He was killed, but you seemed to escape without as much as a scratch.”