"Old Man Renaud here says you fell over the side of Two Mile Hill. He picked you up about six o'clock this morning. Don't you remember?"
"Remember what?" The blank look still remained. Thayer moved closer to the bed and bending, stared at him.
"Why, the accident. I'm Thayer, you know—Thayer, your manager at the Empire Lake mill."
"Have I a manager?"
The thin man drew back at this and stood for a moment staring down at Houston. Then he laughed and rubbed his gnarled hands.
"I hope you've got a manager. You—you haven't fired me, have you?"
Barry turned his head wearily, as though the conversation were ended.
"I don't know what you are talking about."
"You—don't—say, you're Barry Houston, aren't you?"
"I? Am I?"