“How were you dressed?”
“In Adam’s costume, I’m told. I regret the loss of a full suit of apparel, more especially as it might have proved my identity.”
“You mean you were entirely divested of clothing?”
“Except for a few rags of underwear, entirely worthless as clews to what was doubtless an illustrious personality! However, I’m lucky to have breath left in my body, and when I get back my memory, I’ll prove that I really did fall through the earth, and I’ll find out where I fell in.”
“I sincerely hope you will, old chap,” and I shook hands as I rose to go. “As the play says, ‘You interest me strangely!’ May I come to see you again?”
“I wish you would, Mr. Brice, and by that time I shall have chosen me a first name.”
CHAPTER IX
The Man in Boston
I could not suppress a feeling of elation as I once again rang at the door of Olive Raynor’s home that evening. I almost began to feel a proprietary interest in the mansion, as I now was practically the legal adviser of its new mistress. And to be received as a privileged caller, even a welcome one, was a source of gratification to my pride and self-respect.
Mrs. Vail was present at our interview this time, and my first sight of her gave me a very favorable impression. A distinguished-looking lady, slightly past middle age, she was aristocratic of bearing and kindly pleasant of manner. Perhaps a trifle of condescension mingled with her courteous reception of me, but I put that down to her recent acquirement of a position of importance. No such trait was visible in Miss Raynor’s simple and sincere greeting, and as Olive eagerly inquired as to the result of my afternoon’s quest, I told her my story at once.
She was greatly relieved that no trace of Amory Manning had been found on the morgue records and though she was duly sympathetic when I told her of the strange case of the man who fell through the earth, it only momentarily claimed her preoccupied attention.