“‘Yes; how did you know?’ I asked her. And she said, ‘I saw a photograph of Mr. Manning on your bureau.’ Little rascal! I can’t help liking her!”
CHAPTER XI
Case Rivers
So absorbed was I in the new interests that had come into my life, so anxious to be of assistance to Olive Raynor, and so curious to watch the procedure of Pennington Wise, that I confess I forgot all about the poor chap I had seen at Bellevue Hospital,—the man who “fell through the earth”! And I’m not sure I should ever have thought of him again, save as a fleeting memory, if I hadn’t received a letter from him.
My dear Brice [he wrote]: I’ve no right to pilfer your time, but if you have a few minutes to squander, I wish you’d give them to me. I’m about to be discharged from the hospital, with a clean bill of health,—but with no hint or clew as to my cherished identity. The doctors—drat ’em!—say that some day my memory will spring, full-armed, back at me, but meanwhile, I must just sit tight and wait. Not being of a patient disposition, I’m going to get busy at acquiring a new identity, then, if the old one ever does spring a come-back, I’ll have two,—and can lead a double life! No, I’m not flippant, I’m philosophical. Well, if your offer didn’t have a string tied to it come in to see me,—please.
Sincerely yours, Case Rivers.
P.S.—The doctors look upon me as a very important and interesting case,—hence my name.
I smiled at the note, and as I had taken a liking to the man from the start, I went at once to see him.
“No,” I assured him, after receiving his cordial welcome, “my offer had no string attached. I’m more than ready to help in any way I can, to find a niche for you in this old town and fit you into it. It doesn’t matter where you hail from, or how you got here; New York is an all-comers’ race, and the devil take the hindmost.”
“He won’t get me, then,” and Rivers nodded his head determinedly; “I may not be in the van, just at first, but give me half a chance, and I’ll make good!”
This was not bumptiousness or braggadocio, I could see, but an earnest determination. The man was sincere and he had a certain doggedness of purpose, which was evident in his looks and manner as well as in his words.
Rivers was up and dressed now, and I saw he was a good-looking chap. His light-brown hair was carefully parted and brushed; his smooth-shaven face was thin and pale, but showed strong lines of character. He had been fitted with glasses,—a pince-nez, held by a tiny gold chain over one ear,—and this corrected the vacant look in his eyes. His clothes were inexpensive and quite unmistakably ready-made.
He was apologetic. “I’d rather have better duds,” he said, “but as I had to borrow money to clothe myself at all, I didn’t want to splurge. One doctor here is a brick! He’s going to follow up my ‘case,’ and so I accepted his loan. It’s a fearful predicament to be a live, grown-up man, without a cent to your name!”