Harrisburg telegraph. [volume] (Harrisburg, Pa.) 1879-1948, 1916-03-23
AzAPTEB PIT
- XXVF1

A sharp attack of fever followed
Gerry's exposure and immersion. The
old woman of the inn knew no medica-
ments, but she knew fever. She piled
blankets on Gerry. and let him sweat
1t out. On the third day nature, assist
ed by his magnificent physique, finally
routed the attack.
He called the old woman He asked
her if she remembered him. She peered
at him. "No, master" she said, 81 do
not remember you. You are like the
foreigner who was drowned, but he
is dead"
Gerry shook his head. mot dead"
he said, "only disappeared"
You are not he," said the old wom-
an. HE could not talk words that
one could understand"
Gerry nodded gravely. He felt as
though words could never make him
smile again. II have learned" he said.
"Now tell me what became of the
things left here" He went through
1ne list.
The old woman checked off each
item and then shrugged her shoulders.
She led him to little dark room
whose only light came from the inter
stices of the tiled roof. AS his pupils
expanded he began to make out one
after another of the bags that had
made up his travelling kit
"There is a letter. she said, and
went off to fetch it. Gerry dragged
the bags out into the light. Their locks
were all sealed with the seal of the
American consulate at Pernambuco.
He started knocking off the brittle
wax. The old woman came back with
the letter and handed it to him. He
tore it open. 1t was note from the
consul saying that by order of Gerry's
wife his things had been sealed and
left at the inn, telling him where to
find the keys. The room. he learned
from the old woman, had been paid
for regularly, at first by the month,
then by the year. She felt no resent
ment at his return, only resignation.
You are the only guest I've had since
you went away" she said quantity and
with a sigh.
Fear nothing" said Gerry kindly.
You have been faithful You may
consider the room engaged by me for
the next ten years"
He carried his bags into the room
overlooking the river and then lay
down. He was too tired after the fe-
yer to open them. ae knew that the
opening of those dust-covered bags
with their rusted metal fittings was
going to be another ordeal
The next day Gerry sat before his
unpacked bags. He had turned out
all their contents. On the bed, the
floor. the table and the chairs was
piled such an array Of linen aud shoes
and suits of various cut aud weight as
he had once deemed the minimum with
which a man could decently travel.
Now they seemed TO him wasteful and
futile. The clothes did not carry his
mind back as he had expected. The
starch in the linen had gone yellow.
He had always hated yellow collars.
The suits struck him as belonging to
someone else-all except one. One
sturdy suit of tweed had a cut that
was different from the others. OF all
the clothes it alone seemed to have
personal note-the note he had ex-
pected to find in the bags and had
shrunk from.
Then he remembered. This suit had
been made by his own tailor. He had
worn it during a flying visit to Red
Hill. He had had it on the day he
left New York. He had worn it that
morning in AliX' room. Red Hill came
back to him, Alix stood before him.
Through the suit he saw her room, the
shimmering blue of her dressing gown,
her crown of hair and her thin fingers
busy with it. He felt again the nip
of the dear air us it had streamed in
through the open vinHnw.
Dc \