eryone
swears to--and died. No papers were found on either of them, and when
the other man was questioned, he merely shook his head, with a vacant
look. Various tests were applied to him, but it was soon clear, both
that he was dumb--and deaf--from nerve shock, probably--and that he was
in a terrible physical state. He had been severely wounded--apparently
many months before--in the shoulder and thigh. The wounds had evidently
been shockingly neglected, and were still septic. The surgeon who
examined him thought that what with exposure, lack of food, and his
injuries, it was hardly probable he would live more than a few weeks.
However, he has lingered till now, and the specialist I spoke of has
just seen him.

'As to identification marks there were none. But you'll hear all about
that when you come. All I can say is that, as soon as they got the man
into hospital, the nurses and surgeons became convinced that he _was_
English, and that in addition to his wounds, it was a case of severe
shell-shock--acute and long-continued neurasthenia properly
speaking,--loss of memory, and all the rest of it.

'Of course the chances of this poor fellow being George Sarratt are
infinitesimal--I must warn you as to that. How account for the interval
between September 1915 and June 1916--for his dress, his companion--for
their getting through the German lines?

'However, directly I set eyes on this man, which was the week after I
arrived here, I began to feel puzzled about him. He reminded me of
someone--but of whom I couldn't remember. Then one afternoon it suddenly
flashed upon me--and for the moment I felt almost sure that I was
looking at George Sarratt. Then, of course, I began to doubt again. I
have tried--under the advice of the specialist I spoke of--all kinds of
devices for getting into some kind of communication with him. Sometimes
the veil between him and those about him seems to thin a little, and one
makes attempts--hypnotism, suggestion, and so forth. But so far, quite
in vain. He has, however, one peculiarity which I may mention. His hands
are long and rather powerful. But the little fingers are both
crooked--markedly so. I wonder if you ever noticed Sarratt's hands?
However, I won't write more now. You will understand, I am sure, that I
shouldn't urge you to come, unless I thought it seriously worth your
while. On the other hand, I cannot bear to excite hopes which may--which
probably will--come to nothing. All I can f