r typhoid, and
it wasn't ten minutes before he was picked up on the quay."

"The heat of the sun, I expect, was too much for him under the
circumstances," said Dr. Belton. "A plain case of sunstroke, I think."

"This money was found in his pocket," said Simkins, handing over five
sovereigns and fifteen shillings in silver; "this bunch of keys, too,
and his watch; but no card or letter to show who he is."

"Fine young fellow," said Dr. Belton; "splendid physique, but looks
like a bad attack."

Restoratives were tried, but with no effect; Cardo still lay like a
dead man.

"Very strange," said the doctor, when next day he found the patient in
the same unconscious condition. "Few constitutions would be able to
fight against two such serious diseases."

"Sunstroke as well as typhoid?" said Mr. Simkins.

"Yes, I have no doubt of it. Curious combination of evils."

"Poor chap!" said Simkins, "no constitution could survive that."

"Nothing is impossible," said the doctor, "very interesting case; keep
up the strength, nurse."

Everything was done that was possible for poor Cardo; the nurses were
unremitting in their care and attention, but nothing roused him from
his trance-like stupor.

During the course of the day, the news of the finding of an unknown man
on the quay reached the Wolfington Hotel, where the waiter, with
another knowing wink and shake of the head, said, "On the razzle-dazzle
again, I expect. Must be the same man." And he proceeded upstairs to
examine the luggage, from which Cardo had removed the labels intending
to redirect them to his uncles house. There was no letter or paper
found to indicate the name of the owner, even the initials C. W. gave
no clue.

"What was the man's name?" said the waiter to Mr. Simkins, who happened
to call the following morning.

"Don't know. Charles Williams he is called at the hospital. There was
no clue to his identity, but just the letters C. W. on his linen."

"Then, no doubt, his luggage is here," said the waiter. "All his
things are marked C. W., and, from your description, it must be the
same man."

"Well, my brother will speak to Dr. Belton about it, and he will
arrange to have it taken care of; he already has his money and his
watch."

And so Cardo Wynne slipped out of his place in the outside world and
was soon forgotten by all except those connected with the hospital.

In three weeks the fever had run its course, and, to the astonishment
o