"Oh, yes—Mary—of course—you mean your sister——"
Helen looked at him in amazement, then in alarm. Could the wreck have affected his mind? Laughingly she retorted:
"Ray? Of course not. How foolish you are, Kenneth. Don't you remember that your old nurse came to see you before you sailed?"
He nodded and coughed uneasily, moving restlessly about in his chair, as if to hide his embarrassment. These questions were decidedly unpleasant. Inwardly he wished François was present to help him out.
"Mary? Oh, yes, I remember—of course—of course——"
The look of anxiety in the young woman's face deepened. His memory failed him completely. Changing the subject she said quickly:
"There's something else I wish to mention to you, dear. It is about Signor Keralio——"
He started quickly to his feet. How came his brother's wife to know the name of the arch-plotter, the man who had sentenced her own husband to death? Was it possible that she knew more? Was she aware of his real identity? Was her present amiability of manner merely simulated? Was she waiting her time before calling in the police and exposing him as an impostor?
"Keralio?" he echoed hoarsely. "What about Keralio?" Making a step forward he exclaimed savagely: "Has he squealed? Is the game up? He's to blame, not I!"
Impulsively, instinctively, Helen sprang from her chair and fell back with a startled exclamation. Now thoroughly alarmed, more than ever convinced that the shipwreck had affected his brain, her one solicitude was to keep him quiet until she could get a doctor. Soothingly she said: