yet dreamily those days and everything that had happened in
them came back to him, while the people whose faces he called up
thought of him in his grave! He wondered how it was that Eric Mantell
had escaped, and how Eric came to believe that he had identified John
Denin's body. He wondered also whether, now that Frank Denin was "Sir
Frank," Kathryn VanKortland had changed her mind.

"I wish I could make the title over to Frank," the man in the hospital
cot said to himself. "God knows I don't value it for myself, and I
don't believe Barbara does. But it can't be. And there's just one thing
to be done."

There seemed to the weary brain of the invalid, however, no great hurry
about doing the one thing. Barbara was certainly not grieving for him.
There was no one else to care very much except some of the old
servants, and he had remembered all of them in his will before going to
the front. As for Frank, in a way it would be a good thing for him if
he could secure Kathryn before the news came bereaving him of the
baronetcy. The girl could not leave him if they were married, or even
throw him over with decency if they were engaged. Besides, Denin wanted
to write the letter himself. He would not trust the task to one of the
nurses, and had confided to no one yet the fact that memory of his past
had come back. He was only just beginning to use his right hand for a
few minutes at a time. It would be a week at the least, before he could
write even a short letter without help.

Two days went by, and the surgeon's orders to "let him alone," so that
he might "come round of his own accord," were still observed. Nobody
questioned the invalid about himself, though the nurses said to each
other that he had "begun to think."

On the third day, a wounded British aviator was brought into his ward.
The news ran about like wildfire, and Denin soon learned that a fellow
countryman of his had arrived. The aviator, it seemed, had been in the
act of dropping bombs on some railway bridge which meant the cutting of
important communications, when he had been brought down with his
monoplane, by German guns. Both his legs were broken, but otherwise he
was not seriously hurt.

Denin enquired of a nurse who the man was, and heard that he was Flight
Commander Walter Severne.

The sound of that name brought a faint thrill. Denin did not know
Walter Severne, but he had met an elder brother of his, who was one of
the first and cleverest military air