"I suppose a blow on the head might do that, I don't know." "I wish somebody would knock me on the head! I'd like to forget a few things!" moaned Lizzie, but the interruption went unregarded.
"Don't you even know your name ?" queried Miss Cornelia of the Unknown.
The Unknown shook his head with a slow, laborious gesture.
"Not--yet." "Or where you came from ?" Once more the battered head made its movement of negation.
"Do you remember how you got in this house ?" The Unknown made an effort.
"Yes--I--remember--that--all--right" he said, apparently undergoing an enormous strain in order to make himself speak at all.

He put his hand to his head.
"My--head--aches--to--beat--the--band," he continued slowly.
Miss Cornelia was at a loss.

If this were acting, it was at least fine acting.
"How did you happen to come to this house ?" she persisted, her voice unconsciously tuning itself to the slow, laborious speech of the Unknown.
"Saw--the--lights." Bailey broke in with a question.
"Where were you when you saw the lights ?" The Unknown wet his lips with his tongue, painfully.
"I--broke--out--of--the--garage," he said at length.

This was unexpected.

A general movement of interest ran over the group.
"How did you get there ?" Beresford took his turn as questioner.
The Unknown shook his head, so slowly and deliberately that Miss Cornelia's fingers itched to shake him in spite of his injuries.
"I--don't--know." "Have you been robbed ?" queried Bailey with keen suspicion.
The Unknown mumbled something unintelligible.