She laughed half hysterically.
“Did you hear that, Mr. Carter? He knows me! He called me by my name! He is coming to himself!”
The detective shook his head doubtfully. He was willing to admit that remembering the girl’s name was a good sign, but it was not enough.
“Let me try,” he said.
Touching the young man on the shoulder, he bent over and whispered sharply in his ear:
“Howard Milmarsh!”
There was a slight movement. But it could not be said that the name had brought him to his senses. He slumped down in his chair again, and in a weary voice murmured: “Bessie!”
“The only thing he can think of,” remarked Chick. “He’s a lucky man.”
“I don’t see where the luck comes in, if he’s off his nut,” rejoined Patsy.