. It was the man for whom he had sent. Even at the moment of
his entrance, Powers found himself struggling with an insane desire to
abandon his purpose, to invent some trifling excuse and to keep silence.

The two men shook hands silently.

Trowse looked ten years younger than his age, which was forty-five, and
he was now the greatest known authority upon diseases of the brain. He
eyed Powers curiously.

"What is wrong with you?" he asked.

"Nothing," replied the other.

"You sent for me," Trowse reminded him, "and if you waste my time you'll
have to pay for it. These are my busiest hours."

Powers came back to the present. It was too late to hesitate. He smiled
grimly.

"You won't want payment," he said, "when you have heard why I sent for
you."

A light like the flashing of fire upon polished steel lit up for a
moment those strange-colored eyes. Yet in other respects the man was
unmoved. Not a muscle of his face twitched.

"You have found a subject?" he said.

"I have."

"You are going to attempt the operation, or you want me to?"

"It is done."

Trowse set down his hat, and deliberately selected a chair.

"You've pluck!" he remarked. "Dead or alive?"

"Alive."

The absence of any sentiment of triumph in Powers' face or tone made its
impression upon the older man. He decided at once that the thing had
gone wrong.

"Alive! In what condition is he?"

"It's a she," Powers answered.

"Better subject perhaps. Go on."

"She has recovered consciousness. So far everything has gone according
to calculation."

"You administered your Indian drug?"

"Yes. I was going to tell you. She is conscious, and physically unhurt"

"The memory?"

"Gone!"

Trowse rose briskly.

"Let me see her," he insisted. "Then we will talk."

Silently they made their way to the bedroom. She had made a somewhat
fastidious toilet, and wore, with the air of one who has been used to
such things all her life, a dressing-jacket trimmed with lace, which was
among the things which Marian Fiske had sent. Her hair was tied up with
ribbon, and skilfully arranged to hide the bandages on her head. The
delicacy of her face and hands seemed heightened by the faint spot of
color which flushed her cheeks as the two men entered the room.

"I have brought a friend of mine," Powers said after a few words to
Eleanor and the nurse, "to congratulate me upon my case. This is Doctor
Trowse, nurse. I know that he considers me a dangerous ama