"Did she ask for us?" Alice asked. "I can't say that she did. She seems dazed yet. Sometimes in falls like this, where the head is injured, it is days before the patient realizes what has happened." "Is her head injured?" Ruth inquired. "Yes, she seems to have received a hard blow on it. Whether there is a fracture or a concussion Dr. Wherry had not yet determined. It will take a little time to decide. Meanwhile, you may see her, just for a moment." Alice and Ruth softly entered the room where Estelle lay on a white bed. Her face was pale, but her eyes were bright. There was a subtle odor of disinfectants, of opiates and of other drugs in the room--a veritable hospital atmosphere. "Don't startle her," cautioned the nurse, motioning for silence. "We'll be careful," promised Alice, in a whisper. The two sisters approached the bed. Estelle looked at them but, strange to say, there was no look of recognition in her eyes. Ruth and Alice might have been two strangers for all the notice Estelle took of them. "She--she doesn't know us," whispered Ruth. "She will, as soon as you speak," said Miss Lyon. "Just talk to her in a low voice, but naturally. She'll know you then, I'm sure." "How--how are you feeling?" asked Ruth, in a whisper. There was no response--no light of recognition in the eyes. "A little louder and call her by name," suggested the nurse. "You try, Alice," Ruth whispered. Her sister stepped to the bedside. "Estelle, don't you know me?" Alice asked. The eyes turned in the direction of the voice. "Were you speaking to me?" came the question, and both Ruth and Alice started at the changed tones of their friend. "Yes, to you," Alice answered. "I--I _don't_ know you," was the gentle response. "Don't you know me--Alice DeVere? And this is my sister, Ruth. Don't you know us, Estelle?" "Is your name Estelle?" came the query. "No, that is _your_ name," and Alice smiled, though a cold hand seemed to be clutching at her heart. "That is your name--you are Estelle. Don't you remember?" "Estelle what? Who is Estelle?" "You are. You are Estelle Brown! Don't you know your own name?" The golden head on the white pillow was slowly moved from side to side. The bright eyes showed no sign of recognition. Then came the gentle voice: "I am not Estelle Brown. I don't know her. What do you mean? I don't know any of you. Why am I here? What has happened? I wish you would take me home at once. I live at the Palace." "What--what does she mean?" gasped Ruth, looking in alarm at the nurse. "I don't know. Perhaps she is delirious and imagines she is playing in the moving pictures. Was there a palace scene?" "Not since she joined the company. But why does she deny her identity?" "I can not say. Sometimes after an injury like this happens, people say queer things. We had better not disturb her further. I'll call Dr. Wherry." Alice made one more effort to bring recollection to Estelle.