“Yes!” suddenly exclaimed Paul. “I—I know him! His name is—”
“That’s what we want to know—who is he?” interrupted Andy eagerly.
“He is—his name is—Oh, why can’t I remember?” cried poor Paul, passing his hand over his forehead in despair. “I thought it was coming to me, but it’s faded away again! Oh, why can’t I recall who he is? Then I know the mystery would be solved. But I can’t—it’s all—so—so hazy. Only I know that this man had something to do with me—and, yes, I’m beginning to recall it now—my father also. He wanted to harm me—or was it my father? I can’t—”
“Now look here,” broke in Mr. Racer kindly, “this won’t do, you know. You must calm yourself, Paul. I can’t let you excite him, boys. Here is some quieting medicine Dr. Martin left, Paul. Take that and in half an hour you will be calmer. Then you can tell us all you recollect. Perhaps by that time your memory will be stronger. Meanwhile, if you boys want to do something why don’t you get some clothes on, and go with Jake the gardener to see if you can get any trace of that scoundrel? I’ll call up the police.”
“Good!” cried Frank. “That’s what we’ll do. Come on, Andy.”
The two boys were soon scouring the garden with lantern, accompanied by Jake, the man of all work. But they had little hope of coming upon the intruder. They found the place where he had burst through the currant bushes after leaping from Paul’s window, and there were his footprints in the soft earth; but that was all.
“He’s far enough off by this time,” declared Andy. “Let’s go in and see if Paul can tell us anything.”
They found their friend much quieter. Mr. and Mrs. Racer had dressed, and Paul had on his clothes. They were sitting in the dining room, Mr. Racer drinking some hot coffee Mary had made.
“We’ll have a little midnight supper,” said the boys’ mother with a faint laugh. “I’m sure I won’t get to sleep again to-night.”
“Did you see anything of him?” asked their father.