"Forget to-night who I am, and to-morrow I shall have no assurance that the police are not searching for me. Why, man, I may have been a criminal. I have no way of knowing. I am hand-tied. Possibly, I have a wife and family waiting for me somewhere--needing me!" His breath came in agitated gasps. "I am two men, and one of them does not know the other. Sometimes, it threatens me with madness--sometimes, for a happy interval, I almost forget it. At first, it was insupportable, but the vastness of the prairie and the calm of the mountain seemed to soothe me into sanity, and give me a grip on myself. The starlight in my face during nights spent in the saddle--that was soothing; it was medicine for my sick brain. These things at least made me physically perfect. But, since yesterday is sealed, I must remain to some extent the recluse. The sort of intercourse we call society I have barred. That is why I am anxious for your cabin, rather than your clubs and your entertainments." "You didn't have to tell me," said Steele slowly, "but I'm glad you did. I and my friends are willing to gauge your past by your present. But I'm glad of your confidence." Saxon raised his face, and his eyes wore an expression of gratification. "Yes, I'm glad I told you. If I should go out before I solve it, and you should ever chance on the answer, I'd like my own name over me--and both dates, birth as well as death. My work is, of course, to learn it all--if I can; and I hope--" he forced a laugh--"when I meet the other man, he will be fit to shake hands with." "Listen," Steele spoke eagerly. "How long has it been?" "Over six years." "Then, why not go on and round out the seven? Seven years of absolute disappearance gives a man legal death. Let the old problem lie, and go forward as Robert Saxon. That is the simplest way." The other shook his head. "That would be an evasion. It would prove nothing. If I discover responsibilities surviving from the past, I must take them up." "What did the physicians say?" "They didn't know." Saxon shook his head. "Perhaps, some strong reminder may at some unwarned moment open the volume where it was closed; perhaps, it will never open. To-morrow morning, I may awaken Robert Saxon--or the other man." He paused, then added quietly: "Such an unplaced personality had best touch other lives as lightly as it can." Steele went silently over, and cranked the machine. As he straightened up, he asked abruptly: "Would you prefer calling off this dinner?" "No." The artist laughed. "We will take a chance on my remaining myself until after dinner, but as soon as convenient----" "To-morrow," promised Steele, "we go to the cabin." CHAPTER III Perhaps, the same futile vanity that led Mr. Bellton to import the latest sartorial novelties from the _Rue de la Paix_ for the adornment of his person made him fond of providing foreign notables to give color to his entertainments.