"Where?
"At Stanley Junction."
"I never was there."
"I think you were."
"When?"
"About three weeks ago. And you just left there this morning. You was with me on that locomotive that just went ahead, jumped off, and--you had better sit down and let me explain things."
Van looked distressed. He was in repossession of all his faculties, there was no doubt of that, but there was a blank in his life he could never fill out of his own volition. He studied Ralph keenly for a minute or two, sighed desperately, sat down on a bowlder by the side of the road, and said:
"Something's wrong, I can guess that. I had a letter to deliver, and it seems as if it was only a minute ago that I had it with me. Now it's gone, I find myself here without knowing how I came here, with you who are a stranger telling me strange things, and--I give it up. It's a riddle. What's the answer?"
Ralph had a task before him. In his judgment it was best not to crowd things too speedily, all of a jumble.
"You came to Stanley Junction with a letter about three weeks ago," he said. "It seemed you had dead-headed it there on the trucks from some point down the line."