s," the doctor replied.

Mr. Dunster drank his beef tea and felt considerably stronger. His head
still ached, but his memory was returning.

"There was a young man in the carriage with me," he asked presently.
"Mr. Gerald something or other I think he said his name was?"

"Fentolin," the doctor said. "He is unhurt. This is his relative's house
to which you have been brought."

Mr. Dunster lay for a time with knitted brows. Once more the name of
Fentolin seemed somehow familiar to him, seemed somehow to bring with it
to his memory a note of warning. He looked around the room fretfully.
He looked into the nurse's face, which he disliked exceedingly, and he
looked at the doctor, whom he was beginning to detest.

"Whose house exactly is this?" he demanded.

"This is St. David's Hall--the home of Mr. Miles Fentolin," the doctor
told him. "The young gentleman with whom you were travelling is his
nephew."

"Can I send a telegram?" Mr. Dunster asked, a little abruptly.

"Without a doubt," the doctor replied. "Mr. Fentolin desired me to ask
you if there was any one whom you would like to apprise of your safety."

Again the man upon the bed lay quite still, with knitted brows. There
was surely something familiar about that name. Was it his fevered fancy
or was there also something a little sinister?

The nurse, who had glided from the room, came back presently with
some telegraph forms. Mr. Dunster held out his hand for them and then
hesitated.

"Can you tell me any date, Doctor, upon which I can rely upon leaving
here?"

"You will probably be well enough to travel on the third day from now,"
the doctor assured him.

"The third day," Mr. Dunster muttered. "Very well."

He wrote out three telegrams and passed them over.

"One," he said, "is to New York, one to The Hague, and one to London.
There was plenty of money in my pocket. Perhaps you will find it and pay
for these."

"Is there anything more," the doctor asked, "that can be done for your
comfort?"

"Nothing at present," Mr. Dunster replied. "My head aches now, but I
think that I shall want to leave before three days are up. Are you the
doctor in the neighbourhood?"

Sarson shook his head.

"I am physician to Mr. Fentolin's household," he answered quietly. "I
live here. Mr. Fentolin is himself somewhat of an invalid and requires
constant medical attention."

Mr. Dunster contemplated the speaker steadfastly.

"You will forgive me," he said. "I am an