"There was such an accident, notwithstanding, in which I sustained grave injuries; I bear a new scar upon my head, beneath the hair, that satisfies me at least one hurt was grave."
"Well!" Crane laughed shortly--"guess you ought to know if anybody."
"That's the very point: I ought to--but I don't."
"Between the moment when I was struck and thrown by a motor-car that night of November, and the moment when, on the morning of the fifth of June, I bumped my head badly, falling from a companion-ladder on the Port Royal, I remember nothing. For all I know of my life between these dates, I am indebted to a lady who may or may not be a sacred vessel of the unbiased truth--Mademoiselle Delorme."
"Liane Delorme!" cried Crane--"where in time did you meet up with that war-horse?"
"Funny! that dame sailed for France last February--by request--and specially requested not to come back, too."
"Made it my business to see her off. The Lone Wolf had just begun to be a regular pest, about that time, and I thought maybe little Liane knew more than she was willing to let on. So we got the Government to put on the screws; it amounted to her being deported, though she was given to understand the Government's memory might go bad if her's got good. But she left swearing in seven languages, none of 'em ladylike, she didn't know the first thing about you and was a cruelly misjudged woman and all like that."
"Yet she must have returned, to have sailed on the Port Royal with me."
"Oh! there are a hundred different ways, all good, for an undesirable alien to sneak into this country--by rail from Canada or Mexico, or through any port but New York--running next to no risk of being spotted and held up except by accident."
"You interest me more every minute. Pray bear in mind I have seen no newspapers, while you, I daresay, have read more than one report of my disappearance from the Port Royal . . . No doubt, then, you can tell me who claimed the honour of having recovered the necklace."
"The one I am credited with having stolen from the wife of your worthy Chief of Police."
"Guess you mean Commissioner of Police--Commissioner Enright." Frankly mistrustful examination of Lanyard's face ended in the generous verdict: "Somebody's been kidding you, son."