"Eleanor has told me of her long search," began Thornton. "My disappearance came from lapse of memory, and the latter was brought on by a fall on shipboard. That fall,"--deliberately,--"was caused by my brother, Dana." "Oh, Father!" Eleanor sat bolt upright. "Yes, I had found out some of his deviltries and taxed him with them. I told him I would expose him if he did not mend his ways, and he promised to do so. He visited me on board ship, and while he was there I had occasion to mount the rigging. He followed me up, and managed to push me as I was swinging from one of the ropes. I lost my balance and fell, with what result you already know." "The fiend!" cried Eleanor, bitterly. "And I trusted him so." "His ability to inspire confidence has been his greatest asset," said her father dryly. "After leaving the gig that day at Old Point Comfort, everything is a blank to me." "What brought back your memory?" asked Douglas. "A chance remark overheard in a drinking hell of Colon, Panama. Two days before that a man whose face was dimly familiar met me in the streets of Cristobal and gave me his card, telling me I must ask for him at the Navy Department at Washington, and that the Secretary was keeping a place open for me. At the time, while his words impressed me deeply, they conveyed no very clear idea, nor did Senator Carew's name enlighten me; but they caused me to renew my efforts to remember the past, which I felt convinced was very different from my surroundings then. "As I have said, two days after I overheard two men plotting against the United States. Toward the end of their conversation the younger man, whom I took to be an American, mentioned the name which woke the sleeping chords of memory--the name of my dearly loved wife, Nora Fitzgerald,"--his voice broke with a sob. Eleanor raised his hand to her lips and kissed it tenderly. Her father's grasp tightened involuntarily and he continued: "I hastened back to Washington as soon as I could get here, working my passage, and on my arrival went to see Secretary Wyndham. The news of Senator Carew's death was a great shock, for I had depended on him to assist me to find my wife and child. I believe I had some sort of attack at the Department, but all I recollect is finding myself again in the street." "What did you do then?" questioned Douglas, as the older man paused. "I came on here, thinking I might find Dana. He was out, but old Nicodemus opened the door for me. He recognized me almost instantly; hurried me out into the kitchen, and there poured out such an extraordinary tale of Dana's behavior that I sat dumfounded." "Do tell us what he said," urged Brett, hitching his chair forward.