ter in the rack,
addressed to J. R. Penreath, but what good was that to me? I could not
claim it because I was booked in the name of James Ronald. I knew nobody
in the place to whom I could apply. I had some thoughts of confiding in
the hotel proprietor, but one look at his face was sufficient to put
that out of the question.

"So I went in to breakfast, desperately angry at being treated so, and
feeling more than a little ill. You know what happened at the breakfast
table. I began to feel pretty seedy, and left my place to get to the
fresh air, when that doctor--Sir Henry Durwood--jumped up and grabbed
me. I tried to push him off, but he was too strong for me, and I found
myself going. The next thing I knew was that I was lying in my bedroom,
and hearing somebody talk. After you had left the room I determined to
leave the hotel as quickly as possible. I packed a small handbag, and
told the hotel-keeper on my way downstairs that he could keep my things
until I paid my bill. Then I walked to Leyland Hoop, where I had an
appointment with Peggy, as you know. I seem to have acted as a pretty
considerable ass all round," said the young man, with a rueful smile.
"But I had a bad gruelling from shell-shock. I wouldn't mention this,
but it's really affected my head, you know, and I don't think I'm always
quite such a fool as this story makes me appear to be."

"And your nerves were a bit rattled by the Zeppelin raid at Durrington,
were they not?" said Colwyn sympathetically.

"You seem to know everything," said the young man, flushing. "I am
ashamed to say that they were."

"You have no cause to be ashamed," replied Colwyn gently. "The bravest
men suffer that way after shell-shock."

"It's not a thing a man likes to talk about," said Penreath, after a
pause. "But if you have had experience of this kind of thing, will you
tell me if you have ever seen a man completely recover--from
shell-shock, I mean?"

"I should say you will be quite yourself again shortly. There cannot be
very much the matter with your nerves to have stood the experience of
the last few weeks. After we get you out of here, and you have had a
good rest, you will be yourself again."

"And what about this other thing--this _furor epilepticus_, whatever it
is?" asked Penreath, anxiously.

"As you didn't murder anybody, you haven't had the epileptic fury,"
replied Colwyn, laughing.

"But Sir Henry Durwood said at the trial that I was an epileptic,"
per