The business, as we know, was the securing and putting in service of the new invention for heating and lighting cars. It was necessary for him to go to Washington to arrange for the patent, and it was on this trip that a clue most unexpectedly fell into his hands which seemed to lead to a startling discovery—a discovery which was more to him than any fortune which the invention could bring.
It all came about through a scrap of paper which fell in his way as he was looking about his hotel bedroom for a piece of wrapping-paper with which to cover the model of the machine which he was about to carry to the Patent Office. He could find nothing for this purpose but an old newspaper which lined a bureau drawer. In this he wrapped his machine, and took his seat in the street-car, the package resting on his knees. His fellow-passengers were uninteresting, and he fixed his gaze upon his package. A heading to one of the shorter articles in the old newspaper attracted his attention.
"Remarkable Case of Loss of Identity; the Doctors Puzzled."
He read on aimlessly.
"The physicians of —— Hospital have an interesting case. One of their patients, a lady, was injured at the burning of the Henrietta in the Sound in October last. This accident has resulted in a partial loss of memory, and total confusion as to her identity. The unfortunate lady is unable to give her own name or that of her friends. A remarkable circumstance in the case is the fact that, through all the horror and suffering of the accident, which has resulted in a partial loss of her reason, the poor lady kept her infant boy safely clasped in her arms, and the child, entirely uninjured, was rescued with her. Any person who believes that he recognizes a lost friend in this case is requested to communicate with Dr. H. C. Carver, of the —— Hospital."
Mr. Armstrong read this item over and over again. He had believed that his wife and child were lost in the burning of this steamer. Was it possible that they still lived? and what had ten years of separation done for them?
The horse-car passed the Patent Office, but he did not see it. He sat staring at the newspaper until the car brought him to the end of the route and the conductor touched him on the shoulder. "Pardon me, sir; I forgot you wished to stop at the Patent Office."
Mr. Armstrong woke from his reverie.
"No," he exclaimed, "at the railway station. I want to catch the next train for New York—none until 4 o'clock? Then I will go to the Patent Office; but, first, tell me where I can send a telegram."
