"What man?"

"The one scrubbing the floor."

"That isn't a man--it's a thing. What of it?"

"Nothing, only he used to be one of the brightest newspaper writers in
this city."

Henry looked up.

"Yes--used to write some great stuff, they say."

"What's his name?"

"Henry DeGolyer."

Henry sprang to his feet. He put out his hands, for the room began to
swim round. He looked toward the door, but the men were gone. A waiter
ran to him and caught him by the arm. "Sit down here, sir."

"No; get away."

He steadied himself against the wall. The ragged man looked up, moved
his bucket of water, dipped his mop-rag into it and went on with his
work. Henry took a stop forward, and then felt for the wall again. A
death-like paleness had overspread his face, and he appeared vainly to
be trying to shut his staring and expressionless eyes. The waiter took
hold of his arm again.

"Never mind. I'm all right."

There were no customers in the room. The scrub-man came nearer.
Shudder after shudder, seeming to come in waves, passed over Henry,
but suddenly he became calm, and slowly he walked toward the rear end
of the room. The scrub-man moved forward and was at Henry's feet. He
reached down and took hold of the man's arm--took the rag out of his
hand. The man looked up. There could be no mistake. He was Henry
Witherspoon.

"Don't you know me?" DeGolyer asked.

The man snatched the rag and began again to scrub the floor.

DeGolyer took hold of his arm. "Get up," he commanded, and the man
obeyed as if frightened.

"Don't you know me?"

"No."

"Don't you remember Hank?"

"I'm Hank," the man answered.

"No," said DeGolyer, with a sob, "you are Henry, and I am Hank."

"No, Henry's dead--I'm Hank." He dropped on his knees again and began
to scrub the floor.

Just then the proprietor came in. "What's the trouble?" he asked.
"Why, mister, don't pay any attention to that poor fellow. There's no
harm in him."

"No one knows that better than I," DeGolyer answered. "How long has he
been here--where did he come from?"

"He came off a ship. The cap'n said that he couldn't use him and asked
me to take him. Been here about five months, I think. They say he used
to amount to something, but he's gone up here," he added, tapping his
head.

"What's the captain's name--where can I find him?"

"His ship's in now, I think. Go down to the levee and ask for the
cap'n of the Creole."

"I will, but first let me tell you that I