er I met one who knew
me formerly, or heard my right name mentioned, my memory would come
back to me; but in this I am sorely disappointed. Did you know me well,
sir?"

"Pretty well," answered the detective, after a slight hesitation.

"Then tell me something about myself. Tell me who I was."

"Here--in public?" asked Fogerty, with a suggestive glance at the
spectators, who had involuntarily crowded nearer.

Smith flushed, but gazed firmly into the faces surrounding him.

"Why not?" he returned. "These young ladies and Mr. Merrick accepted me
without knowledge of my antecedents. They are entitled to as full an
explanation as--as I am."

"You place me, Melville, in a rather embarrassing position," declared
Fogerty. "This is a queer case--the queerest in all my experience.
Better let me post you in a private interview."

Smith trembled a bit, from nervousness; but he persisted in his demand.

"These people are entitled to the truth," said he. "Tell us frankly all
you know about me, and do not mince words--whatever the truth may be."

"Oh, it's not so bad," announced the detective, with a shrug; "or at
least it wouldn't be in New York, among your old aristocratic haunts.
But here, in a quiet country town, among these generous and
simple-hearted folks who have befriended you, the thing is rather
difficult to say."

"Say it!" commanded Smith.

"I will. Many New Yorkers remember the firm of Melville & Ford, the
cleverest pair of confidence men who ever undertook to fleece the
wealthy lambs of the metropolis."

"Confidence men!" gasped Smith, in a voice of horror.

"Yes, putting it mildly. You were both jolly good fellows and made a
host of friends. You were well-groomed, rode in automobiles, frequented
good clubs and had a stunning establishment on Sixty-sixth street where
you entertained lavishly. You could afford to, for there was where you
fleeced your victims. But it wasn't so very bad, as I said. You chose
the wealthy sons of the super-rich, who were glad to know such popular
men-about-town as Harold Melville and Edgar Ford. When one set of
innocents had been so thoroughly trimmed that they compared notes and
began to avoid you, you had only to pick up another bunch of lambs, for
New York contains many distinct flocks of the species. As they could
afford to lose, none of them ever complained to the police, although the
Central Office had an eye on you and knew your methods perfectly.

"Finally you made a