"Yes, to you," Alice answered.
"I—I don't know you," was the gentle response.
"Don't you know me—Alice DeVere? And this is my sister, Ruth. Don't you know us, Estelle?"
"Is your name Estelle?" came the query.
"No, that is your name," and Alice smiled, though a cold hand seemed to be clutching at her heart. "That is your name—you are Estelle. Don't you remember?"
"Estelle what? Who is Estelle?"
"You are. You are Estelle Brown! Don't you know your own name?"
The golden head on the white pillow was slowly moved from side to side. The bright eyes showed no sign of recognition. Then came the gentle voice:
"I am not Estelle Brown. I don't know her. What do you mean? I don't know any of you. Why am I here? What has happened? I wish you would take me home at once. I live at the Palace."
"What—what does she mean?" gasped Ruth, looking in alarm at the nurse.