rain-fever; or at least she became
insane, reproaching herself for having driven the boy to this dreadful
deed. Under the influence of her mania she wandered away from her home,
and has not been seen since. That's the story of Lucy Rogers. Now look
at Eliza Parsons. She appeared the very day after Lucy's disappearance,
to be sure; but that proves they are not the same person. For Eliza is
not demented. She is a cold, hard woman of the world, in spite of her
tender years. She is doing the work of an experienced spy, while any
deceit was foreign to Lucy's nature. Instead of being plunged in grief
Eliza is happy and gay, reckless of consequences and fully
self-possessed. She is also well and healthy, to all appearances. Taking
all these things into consideration, it is impossible to connect the two
girls in any way--save the coincidence of personal resemblance."

Mr. Burke listened to this quietly, and then shook his head.

"Your arguments all tend to make me suspect that she is Lucy Rogers," he
said, quietly.

For a moment there was an impressive silence, while everyone eagerly,
inquiringly or doubtfully looked at the detective, according to their
diverse acceptance of his statement.

"In pursuance of the task set me," began Mr. Burke, "I had met with such
absolute failure to trace the missing girl that I began to suspect no
ordinary conditions were attached to this case. In my experience, which
covers many years, I have had occasion to study sudden dementia, caused
by shocks of grief or horror, and I have come to comprehend the fact
that the human mind, once unbalanced, is liable to accomplish many
surprising feats. Usually the victim is absolutely transformed, and
becomes the very opposite, in many ways, of the normal personality. I
imagine this is what happened to Lucy Rogers."

"Do you imagine that Lucy would try to deceive _me_, sir?" asked Tom,
reproachfully.

"I am sure she doesn't know who you are," answered the detective,
positively. "She doesn't even know herself. I have known instances where
every recollection of the past was wiped out of the patient's mind."

There was another thoughtful pause, for the detective's assertions were
so astonishing that they fairly overwhelmed his hearers.

Then Louise asked:

"Is such a case of dementia hopeless, Mr. Burke?"

"Not at all hopeless. Often, I admit, it develops into permanent
insanity, but there are many examples of complete recovery. Our first
business