It was an insignificant accident; such a one as occurs shockingly often in our big cities. A large touring car, with seven passengers, rushing up a broad avenue with a conscientious man at the wheel, had overhauled a poor derelict with apparently no fixed purpose in his befuddled brain. In order to spare the fellow, the chauffeur had wheeled his car madly to one side, and, by so doing, had hit an electric-light pole, with the result that every one was more or less injured, the forlorn creature who had caused the excitement, most of all, for the over-turned machine had included him in its crushing destruction.
Four men and three women were carried to St. Albans and now occupied private rooms, while the torn and broken body of the unknown stranger lay in Ward Five, quite unconscious. He was breathing faintly, and, since they had made him clean and decent, he looked very young and wan as he rested upon the narrow, white bed.
Priscilla stood at the foot of the cot and read the chart which a former nurse had hurriedly made out; then she came around to the side and looked down upon—Jerry-Jo McAlpin!
She knew him at once. The deathlike repose had wiped away much that recent years had engraven on his face. He looked as Priscilla remembered him, standing in his father's boat, proudly playing the man.
For a moment the quiet girl grew rigid with superstitious fear. That deathlike creature before her filled her with unreasoning alarm. She almost expected him to open his black eyes and laughingly announce that he had found her at last! She longed to flee from the room before he had a chance to gain control of her. She breathed fast and hard, as she had that morning when his ringing jeer had stayed her feet as she ran from the Far Hill Place after the night of terror. Then sanity came to her relief and she knew, with a pitying certainty born of her training, that Jerry-Jo McAlpin could never harm her again. That he was a link between the past and the future she realized with strange sureness. He had always been that. He had made things happen; been the factor in bringing experiences to her. She, in self-preservation, would not claim any knowledge of him now; she would care for him and wait—wait until she understood just what part he was to play in her present experience. He might threaten all that she had gained for herself—her peace and security. Her only safeguard now was to ignore the personality before her and respond to the appeal of the "case."
Jerry-Jo was destined to become interesting before he slipped away. Known only as a number, since he had not been identified or claimed, he rapidly rose to importance. After three days of unconsciousness he still persisted, and while his soul wandered on the horizon, his body responded to the care given it and grew in strength. One doctor after another watched and commented on his chances, and in due time Doctor Travers, hearing of the case, stopped to examine it, and, in the interest of science, suggested an operation that might possibly return the poor fellow to a world that had evidently no place for him.
"It's worth trying," Travers said as he and Priscilla stood beside the bed. "We haven't found out anything concerning him, have we?"
Priscilla shook her head.
"Suppose he—well, suppose he had any claim upon you, would you take the chance of the operation for him?"
The deep, friendly eyes were fixed upon the girl. She coloured sharply, then went quite pale. There was a most unaccountable struggle, and Travers smiled as he thought how conscientious she was to feel any deep responsibility in a question he had asked, more in idle desire to make talk than for any other reason.