'I shall not be noticed, shall I? If you think I should, I'd rather not go.' 'Certainly not. Who's going to notice you? I'll get you a seat on the platform if you like.' 'Oh, no, no. Let me slink behind a pillar somewhere. No, please don't bother about me, I'll go in with that crowd. I'll find you after the meeting.' He left me as he spoke, and a minute later I had lost sight of him. I am afraid I paid scanty attention to what was said to me in the anteroom, prior to going into the hall. The man interested me more than I can say. I found myself wondering who he was, where he came from, and what his experiences had been. More than once, I doubted whether I had not been the victim of an impostor. The story of his loss of memory was very weak and did not accord with the spirit of the men in the anteroom, who were eagerly talking about the war; or with the purposes of the meeting. And yet I could not help trusting in him, he was so frank and manly. In a way, he was transparent, too, and talked like a grown-up child. When I entered the hall, which was by this time crowded with, perhaps, two thousand people, I scanned the sea of faces eagerly, but could nowhere see the man who had adopted the name of Paul Edgecumbe. I doubted whether he was there at all, and whether I should ever see him again. Still, I did not see what purpose he could have had in deceiving me. He had received nothing from me, save his dinner at the hotel, which I had persisted in paying for in spite of his protests. The clothes he wore were paid for by his own money, and he showed not the slightest expectation of receiving any benefits from me. Just as I was called upon to speak, I caught sight of him. He was sitting only a few rows back from the platform, close to a pillar, and his eyes, I thought, had a vacant stare. When my name was mentioned, however, and I stood by the table on the platform, waiting for the applause which is usual on such an occasion to die down, the vacant look had gone. He was eager, alert, attentive. Usually I am not a ready speaker, but that night my work seemed easy. After I had sketched the story of the events which led to the war, the atmosphere became electric, and the cause I had espoused gripped me as never before, and presently, when I came to the application of the story I had told, and of our duty as a nation which pretended to stand for honour and truth, and Christianity, my heart grew hot, and the meeting became wild with enthusiasm. Just as I was closing, I looked toward the pillar by which Paul Edgecumbe sat, and his face had become so changed that I scarcely knew him. There were no evidences of the drawn, parchment-like skin; instead, his cheeks were flushed, and looked youthful. His eyes were no longer wistful and sad, but burned like coals of fire. He was like a man consumed by a great passion. If he had forgotten the past, the present, at all events, was vividly revealed to him.