Fact. He had never been shy of women. He had somehow preferred to play comrade instead of gallant; and all the women had taken advantage of that, used him callously to pair with old maids, faded wives, and homely debutantes. What impellent was driving him toward these introspections? Kitty, Molly's girl. Each time he saw her or thought of her--the uninvited ghost of her mother. Any other man upon seeing Kitty or thinking about her would have jumped into the future from the spring of a dream. The disparity in years would not have mattered. It was all nonsense, of course. But for his dropping into the office and casually picking up the thread of his acquaintance with Kitty, Molly--the memory of her--would have gone on dimming. Actions, tremendous and world-wide, had set his vision toward the future; he had been too busy to waste time in retrospection and introspection. Thus, instead of a gently rising and falling tide, healthily recurrent, a flood of mixed longings that was swirling him into uncertain depths. Those emeralds had bobbed up just in time. The chase would serve to pull him out of this bog. He heard a footstep and looked up. The nurse was beckoning to him. “What is it?” “He's awake, and there is sanity in his eyes.” “Great! Has he talked?” “No. The awakening happened just this moment, and I came to you. You never can tell about blows on the skull or brain fever--never any two eases alike.” Cutty threw down his napkin and accompanied the nurse to the bedside. The glance of the patient trailed from Cutty to the nurse and back. “Don't talk,” said Cutty. “Don't ask any questions. Take it easy until later in the day. You are in the hands of persons who wish you well. Eat what the nurse gives you. When the right time comes we'll tell you all about ourselves, You've been robbed and beaten. But the men who did it are under arrest.” “One question,” said the patient, weakly. “Well, just one.” “A girl--who gave me something to eat?” “Yes. She fed you, and later probably your life.” “Thanks.” Hawksley closed his eyes. Cutty and the nurse watched him interestedly for a few minutes; but as he did not stir again the nurse took up her temperature sheet and Cutty returned to his eggs. Was there a girl? No question about the emeralds, no interest in the day and the hour. Was there a girl? The last person he had seen, Kitty; the first question, after coming into the light: Had he seen her? Then and there Cutty knew that when he died he would carry into the Beyond, of all his earthly possessions--a chuckle. Human beings! The yarn that reporter had missed by a hair--front page, eight-column head! But he had missed it, and that was the main thing. The poor devil! Beaten and without a sou marque in his pockets, his trail was likely to be crowded without the assistance of any newspaper publicity. But what a yarn! What a whale of a yarn! In his fevered flights Hawksley had spoken of having paid Kitty for that meal.