The time of a breath embraced the strange scene.
"Oh, Paul, Paul, he knows you!" exclaimed Emily in a tense whisper.
"I never saw him to my knowledge until we pulled him aboard this afternoon," said Paul, recovering from his surprise. "He has mistaken me for somebody else. Poor devil is out of his head."
"Are you sure you have never seen him?"
"I'm quite sure. But it's uncanny. Please bring the lamp over here so that I can take a good look at him."
Emily carried the light to the side of the berth and Paul bent over the stranger. He searched every feature of the weather-beaten face and his own memory at the same time. He was positive he had never seen the derelict before.
"Just out of his head, little woman—that's all. I never saw him—I don't know him, although his own mother wouldn't recognize him now."
As he spoke Paul timed the unconscious man's pulse and laid an ear to his breast. Emily caught an uncertain shake in Paul's head as he straightened.
"Is—is he going to get better?" she whispered.
Paul answered her with a shrug of doubt.