There were no prison walls around him to-night. The high buildings behind him, pressing one upon another, had gone to sustain the feeling of imprisonment, but it had quite left him now. There were no cold, watchful lights,--only the moon and the stars and an occasional mellow gleam from the window of a home. There was scarcely any sound at all; not even a stir--as of prisoners tossing and uneasy in their cells. His whole body felt rested. The air was marvelously sweet. Clover was likely in blossom in nearby fields. He breathed deep, an unknown delight stealing over him. He stole on farther, into the mystery of the night--ravished, tingling and almost breathless from an inner and inexplicable excitement. Melville walked quietly beside him. Forest had given over the case: it was Melville's time for experiments to-night. All the way out he had watched his patient, sounding him, studying his reactions and all that he had beheld had gone to strengthen his own convictions. And now, after this moment in the meadows, the old man was ready to go on with his plan. "Let's set down here," he invited casually. Ben started, emerging from his revery. The old man's cheery smile had returned, in its full charm, to his droll face. "You'll want to know what it's all about--and what I have in mind. And I sure think you've done mighty well to hold onto your patience this long." He sat himself on the rail, and Ben quietly took a seat beside him. "There are plenty of things I'd like to know," he admitted. "And plenty of things I ain't goin' to tell you, neither--for the reason that Forest advised against it," Ezra went on. "I don't understand it--but he says you've got a lot better chance to get your memory workin' clear again if things are recalled to you by the aid of 'stimuli' instead of having any one tell you. I've agreed to supply the 'stimuli.' "I don't see any harm in tellin' you that the guesses you've already made are right. Your name is Ben Darby--and you used to be known as 'Wolf' Darby--for reasons that sooner or later you may know. Abner Darby was your father. Edith Darby was your sister that ain't no more. You went awhile to MacLean's College, in Ontario. "Now, Ben, I'm going to put a proposition up to you. I'm hoping you'll see fit to accept it. And I might as well say right here, that while it's the best plan possible to bring you back your memory, and that while it offers just the kind of 'stimuli' you're supposed to need, neither 'stimuli' nor stimulus or stimulum has got very much to do with it. I argued that point mighty strong because I knew it would appeal to Forest, and through him, to the governor. I don't see it makes a whale of a lot of difference whether you get your memory back or not.