I recollected, too, the certificate I had given for payment—those notes which the police held in safe custody.
The whole adventure seemed a hideous nightmare. And yet it was all so real.
But how did I come to be in St. Malo? How did I travel from London?
“Sister,” I said presently. “What is the date of to-day?”
“The eleventh of December,” she replied.
The affair at Stretton Street had occurred on the night of November 7th, over a month before!
“And how long have I been here?”
“Nearly three weeks,” was her answer.
Was it really possible that I had been lost for the previous ten days or so?
I tried to obtain some further facts from my nurse, but she refused to satisfy my curiosity.