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Then followed a list of a dozen or so interesting cases of persons who had vanished completely and had, some several days and some even years later, suddenly “awakened” to their first personality, returned, and taken up the thread of that personality where it had been broken.

To Kennedy’s inquiry I was about to reply that I recalled the conversation distinctly, when Mr. Gilbert shot an inquiring glance from beneath his bushy eyebrows, quickly shifting from my face to Kennedy’s, and asked, “And what was your conclusion – what do you think of the case? Is it aphasia or amnesia, or whatever the doctors call it, and do you think she is wandering about somewhere unable to recover her real personality?”

“I should like to have all the facts at first hand before venturing an opinion,” Craig replied with precisely that shade of hesitancy that might reassure the anxious father and mother, without raising a false hope.

Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert exchanged glances, the purport of which was that she desired him to tell the story.

“It was day before yesterday,” began Mr. Gilbert, gently touching his wife’s trembling hand that sought his arm as he began rehearsing the tragedy that had cast its shadow across their lives, “Thursday, that Georgette – er – since we have heard of Georgette.” His voice faltered a bit, but he proceeded: “As you know, she was last seen walking on Fifth Avenue. The police have traced her since she left home that morning. It is known that she went first to the public library, then that she stopped at a department store on the avenue, where she made a small purchase which she had charged to our family account, and finally that she went to a large book-store. Then – that is the last.”

Mrs. Gilbert sighed, and buried her face in a lace handkerchief as her shoulders shook convulsively.

“Yes, I have read that,” repeated Kennedy gently, though with manifest eagerness to get down to facts that might prove more illuminating. “I think I need hardly impress upon you the advantage of complete frankness, the fact that anything you may tell me is of a much more confidential nature than if it were told to the police. Er-r, had Miss Gilbert any – love affair, any trouble of such a nature that it might have preyed on her mind?”

Kennedy’s tactful manner seemed to reassure both the father and the mother, who exchanged another glance.

“Although we have said no to the reporters,” Mrs. Gilbert replied bravely in answer to the nod of approval from her husband, and much as if she herself were making a confession for them both, “I fear that Georgette had had a love affair. No doubt you have heard hints of Dudley Lawton’s name in connection with the case? I can’t imagine how they could have leaked out, for I should have said that that old affair had long since been forgotten even by the society gossips. The fact is that shortly after Georgette ‘came out,’ Dudley Lawton, who is quite on the road to becoming one of the rather notorious members of the younger set, began to pay her marked attentions. He is a fascinating, romantic sort of fellow, one that, I imagine, possesses much attraction for a girl who has been brought up as simply as Georgette was, and who has absorbed a surreptitious diet of modern literature such as we now know Georgette did. I suppose you have seen portraits of Georgette in the newspapers and know what a dreamy and artistic nature her face indicates?”

Kennedy nodded. It is, of course, one of the cardinal tenets of journalism that all women are beautiful, but even the coarse screen of the ordinary newspaper half-tone had not been able to conceal the rather exceptional beauty of Miss Georgette Gilbert. If it had, all the shortcomings of the newspaper photographic art would have been quickly glossed over by the almost ardent descriptions by those ladies of the press who come along about the second day after an event of this kind with signed articles analysing the character and motives, the life and gowns of the latest actors in the front-page stories.