“We can all testify to the details of Colonel Thornton’s death,” put in Lane. “But we cannot leave him lying here on his own floor. His death was natural, brought on by shock.”
“Very well, sir.” Brett rose and walked to the door. He returned in a moment with a plain-clothes policeman, and, with the assistance of Douglas and Lane, all that was mortal of Dana Thornton was carried to his room. Barry Thornton had requested them to return, and Douglas, Lane, and Brett trooped back to the library.
“Eleanor has told me of her long search,” began Thornton. “My disappearance came from lapse of memory, and the latter was brought on by a fall on shipboard. That fall,”—deliberately,—“was caused by my brother, Dana.”
“Oh, Father!” Eleanor sat bolt upright.
“Yes, I had found out some of his deviltries and taxed him with them. I told him I would expose him if he did not mend his ways, and he promised to do so. He visited me on board ship, and while he was there I had occasion to mount the rigging. He followed me up, and managed to push me as I was swinging from one of the ropes. I lost my balance and fell, with what result you already know.”
“The fiend!” cried Eleanor, bitterly. “And I trusted him so.”
“His ability to inspire confidence has been his greatest asset,” said her father dryly. “After leaving the gig that day at Old Point Comfort, everything is a blank to me.”
“What brought back your memory?” asked Douglas.
“A chance remark overheard in a drinking hell of Colon, Panama. Two days before that a man whose face was dimly familiar met me in the streets of Cristobal and gave me his card, telling me I must ask for him at the Navy Department at Washington, and that the Secretary was keeping a place open for me. At the time, while his words impressed me deeply, they conveyed no very clear idea, nor did Senator Carew’s name enlighten me; but they caused me to renew my efforts to remember the past, which I felt convinced was very different from my surroundings then.