Thorndyke shook his head unhappily. "That's why we have to assume that you are in post-accident shock."
I snorted angrily. "Then explain the license, the date with the reverend, the hotel reservation?"
Thorndyke said quietly, "Hear me out, Steve. This is not my own idea alone, but the combined ideas of a number of people who have studied the human mind—"
"In other words, I'm nuts?"
"No. Shock."
"Shock?"
He nodded very slowly. "Let's put it this way. Let's assume that you wanted this marriage with Miss Lewis. You made preparations, furnished an apartment, got a license, made a date with a preacher, reserved a honeymoon suite, and bought flowers for the bride. You take off from work, arrive at her door, only to find that Miss Lewis has taken off for parts unknown. Maybe she left you a letter—"
"Letter!"
"Hear me out, Steve. You arrive at her apartment and find her gone. You read a letter from her saying that she cannot marry you. This is a rather deep shock to you and you can't face it. Know what happens?"
"I blow my brains out along a country road at ninety miles per hour."