oked puzzled. "You don't seem to recall my face."

"No, I suppose I was knocked senseless. The last thing I can remember
is going down the embankment. I tried to jump, but my foot caught, and
I struck my head against something. There was a young woman in the
opposite berth--was she killed, I wonder? She had two little children.
I suppose I have been unconscious for sometime. It must have happened
yesterday, didn't it?"

"It was several days ago," said the doctor, soothingly. "You had
better rest a while, and then you can tell us more, and about
yourself."

"This lady can tell you all about me. She has known me all my life,"
and he closed his eyes wearily.

The doctor looked at me significantly, and I followed him into the
hall.

"What in the world does this mean? That young man is no more
Charlie Reynolds than I am. I can only account for the case in one
way, and that is a very unusual one. The operation I performed last
week restored his skull to its normal shape. There was quite a
deep indenture and a consequent pressure upon the brain, which
undoubtedly affected, probably suspended, his memory. Now this young
man--minister, did you say?----"

"Yes," I interrupted. "But this is the awful part of it. He is
dead--buried--five years ago. I saw him buried, have gone to his grave
many times, and now he lies there and talks to me. And Charlie
Reynolds, drunkard and robber. Oh, no! no!"

"You say your friend was killed in a railroad accident on his vacation
trip? How was the body identified? Who saw it after it was sent
home?"

"None of his family saw the remains, he was so badly burned. I see. It
must have been the wrong body."

"And the railroad, of course, had him cared for until he was well. And
then he couldn't tell who he was, and drifted about until he fell into
bad company. He has been a cat's paw for this gang, no doubt. Well,
you've got a pretty little sensation upon your hands. I'd like to see
you get back and tell your story."

I wondered how he could talk and smile so carelessly, but in that
country nobody is surprised at anything. I went back to my patient,
after dispatching a messenger for Howard, who was working in the "San
Jacinto," twenty miles away.

Chester, as I could safely call him now, was extremely anxious about
his fellow passengers, and thought they must be in the hotel at this
time. I was familiar with the shocking details of the disaster at the
time, but could not recall them with