" "What gives you that idea?" "Well, we could find no letter of credit, no letters, no labels in his clothes—not a single clew to his real identity. Sheppard," roared Blueskin, who anticipated some fun. She began to feel odd sensations while peering busily at his shoulder and profile. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. “I suppose delusions are not uncommon to patients in his condition. Her eyes were dilated— fixed in a horrified stare at the parting in the curtains which hung before the window.
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