two persons, a doctor in white and a nurse, were watching him. He
rested in that knowledge for a long time, watching memory
reassert itself. Detail after detail sprang into view: farther
and farther back into his experience, far down into the childhood
he had forgotten. He remembered now who he was, his story, his
friends, his life up to a certain blank day or set of days,
between him and which there was nothing. Then he saw the faces
again, and it occurred to him, with a flash as of illumination,
to ask. So he began to ask; and he considered carefully each
answer, turning it over and reflecting upon it with what seemed
to him an amazing degree of concentration.

". . . So I am in Westminster Hospital," he considered. "That is
extraordinarily interesting and affecting. I have often seen the
outside of it. It is of discoloured brick. And I have been
here . . . how long? how long, did they say? . . . Oh! that is a
long time. Five days! And what in the world can have happened to
my work? They will be looking out for me in the Museum. How can
Dr. Waterman's history get on without me? I must see about that
at once. He'll understand that it's not my fault. . . .

"What's that? I mustn't trouble myself about that? But--Oh! Dr.
Waterman has been here, has he? That's very kind--very kind and
thoughtful indeed. And I'm to take my time, am I? Very well.
Please thank Dr. Waterman for his kindness and his
thoughtfulness in enquiring. . . . And tell him I'll be with him
again in a day or two at any rate. . . . Oh! tell him that he'll
find the references to the thirteenth-century Popes in the black
notebook--the thick one--on the right of the fire-place. They're
all verified. Thank you, thank you very much. . . . and . . . by
the way . . . just tell him I'm not sure yet about the
Piccolomini matter. . . . What's that? I'm not to trouble
myself? . . . But . . . Oh! very well. Thank you. . . . Thank
you very much."

There followed a long pause. He was thinking still very hard
about the thirteenth-century Popes. It was really very tiresome
that he could not explain to Dr. Waterman himself. He was certain
that some of the pages in the thick black notebook were loose;
and how terrible it would be if the book were taken out
carelessly, and some of the pages fell into the fire. They easily
might! And then there'd be all the work to do again. . . . And
that would mean weeks and weeks. . . .

Then there came a grave, quiet voice of a wo