“She knows the man.”
“This insane—”
“He is not insane,” I interrupted. “He has lost the memory of his earlier life—lost it through an accident. You and I saw the accident.”
“That’s impossible,” said George, frowning. “I never saw but one accident that you—”
“That was the one: the man is Larrabee Harman.”
George had struck a match to light a cigar; but the operation remained incomplete: he dropped the match upon the floor and set his foot upon it. “Well, tell me about it,” he said.
“You haven’t heard anything about him since the accident?”
“Only that he did eventually recover and was taken away from the hospital. I heard that his mind was impaired. Does Louise—” he began; stopped, and cleared his throat. “Has Mrs. Harman heard that he is here?”
“Yes; she has seen him.”
“Do you mean the scoundrel has been bothering her? Elizabeth didn’t tell me of this—”