CHAPTER TWELVE. WHO AM I
I jumped into the automobile and drove as fast as I could to the offices of Simpson and Todd, the best criminal lawyers in the state, to retain them as council for Helen. Simpson had already gone home, but George Todd was there, and I talked the case over with him.
"You can get a stay of proceedings, can't you?" I asked.
"Surely," he replied. "I'll see that the warrant isn't served until Mrs. Felderson's doctor assures me she is out of danger. The trial needn't come off for three or four months—six if you wish. We can see to that. In the meantime, when will you be able to see Mrs. Felderson?" "I was going up there now," I answered. "The chances are the doctor won't let me question her yet, but it may be we can see her. Will you come with me?" "I'd like very much to. Wait till I get my coat!" We ran up to the hospital and asked if we could be admitted if only for a few moments to Mrs. Felderson's room. Johnson, the little interne with the glasses, had just come in, and when he heard my request he was splutteringly indignant.
"What the devil do you think Mrs. Felderson is suffering from, a broken ankle? Don't you realize she has been desperately ill? If you tried to question her now, she'd become excited and it might result in a serious relapse. Of course you can't see her! You won't be able to talk to her for two or three weeks yet." "I'm sorry," I said, "I should have known better. It was stupid of me, but then, I've been little else than stupid for days. This tragedy has been too much for me. You will let me know as soon as she can be seen, won't you, Johnson?" "I'll let you know," he murmured. "You may be able to see her to-morrow, but I won't let you bother her with any infernal questions until she is well." The week passed only too slowly. Each day I went to the hospital and sat for a brief fifteen or twenty minutes by Helen's side. She was fully conscious and I thought I could see at times that there were questions she wanted to ask me. Remembering the doctor's emphatic instructions, I said very little, never asking any questions, only telling her a few of the unimportant happenings of the town. She seemed uninterested and lay apathetically quiescent except when some apparently perplexing question corrugated her brows. They told her of Jim's death early in the week, but far from being shocked, she had appeared almost indifferent, showing only too plainly how little he meant in her life. Woods she never referred to.
Mary, of course, was her devoted slave, hardly leaving her bedside, and in our daily meetings at the hospital, I fell more and more in love with her, if such a thing were possible. Once when I was coming up the corridor with a large bunch of flowers, I met her outside Helen's door. As she took the blooms from me, she reached up and patted my cheek.
"Bupps, you're a darling to bring these lovely flowers to Helen every day. I think you're quite the nicest brother a girl could have." "If you think that, why won't you have me?" I asked.
"I think I will——" she answered, smiling, "for a brother." She started to open the door, but I grasped her hand.
"Mary, do be serious! You know I love you." She haughtily drew herself up in all the majesty of her five feet three inches and commanded: "Unhand me, villain! I spurn your tempting offer." Then earnestly, "Let me go, Bupps! I've got to put these flowers away." With a quick wrench she freed herself and was gone, leaving me half sick with love of her.
After the first sensational extra, the newspapers had said but little of Helen's and Frank's indictment. Somehow I was confident that Helen would be able to clear herself. Woods had published a statement in which he said he would be able to prove where he was every minute of the evening of the tragedy, and so had had no difficulty in finding bail. In fact, since the indictment, he seemed to have gained a good deal of sympathy and popularity. Every one who knew of his devotion to Helen felt that he had indicted himself to try to save her.
One morning, about a week after my interview with the be-spectacled interne, I met Doctor Forbes as he was coming from Helen's room and he gave me permission to ask her a few questions. "I'm trusting to your good sense, Thompson, not to overdo it," Forbes cautioned. "Remember, she is still in a very weak condition and don't be surprised if she fails to respond to your questions as you expect. Above all things, do not refer in any way to the fact that she has been indicted, the shock might be too much for her." "Thank you, Doctor," I replied, eager to get away, "I'll be very careful." "And remember, no more than ten minutes this first time." I nodded and opened the door. Helen was propped up in bed and showed unmistakably the great suffering she had been through. She was pale and wan, but smiled when she saw me and gave me her cheek to kiss.
"Good morning," she whispered. "The flowers were lovely." "I'm glad you liked them, Sis, dear," I said, sitting down by the side of her bed. I asked her the usual questions, how she felt and if she wanted anything, and then tried to lead up to the only question that was of any consequence to either of us.
"Helen, dear, there are certain questions about your accident that have puzzled us. The doctor said that you could talk for ten minutes this morning and I want to ask you some questions." "Wait a minute!" she interrupted.
"Did the doctor say I might really talk this morning?" "Yes, dear." "There are a hundred questions then that you must answer me. I want to know so many things." She looked away and passed a thin hand over her forehead. Finally she turned her big brown eyes toward me and said:
"First, tell me who I am!" For a brief second I felt numb all through. My brain whirled until I thought my head would burst.
"Helen, dear, what did you say?" My speech was thick, as though my tongue was swollen. Still keeping her gaze fixed on me, she continued:
"They call me Helen, and I gather that you are my brother. There is a beautiful girl who comes here every day. She and I seem to be great friends, but I don't know her, I have heard them call her Mary; tell me who she is!" If I could have run from the room I should have done so. A horror gripped me such as I never felt before. Then I saw two large tears tremble in Helen's eyes, overflow and course down her cheeks and I gathered all the strength that I could muster for the task of trying to awaken a memory that had apparently ceased to function. "Helen, dearest little sister, I am your brother. The beautiful girl you speak of is Mary Pendleton, one of the best and truest friends you ever had. She was your bridesmaid, don't you remember?" Helen shook her head weakly.
"I have been married, then?" she asked.
"You were married to James Felderson. Can't you remember him?" I begged.
Again she shook her head. "No. It's all gone." She thought hard a minute, then she asked: "He is dead—my husband?" "Yes," I muttered, trying to keep the tears back, "he was killed in the same accident—" "What was he like?" she interrupted.
"Helen, think!" I cried, fighting blindly against the terror that was choking me. "Little sister. You must think— hard . Jim. Don't you remember big handsome Jim?" I snatched my watch from my pocket and opened the back, where I carried a small picture of Jim, taken years before. I had put it there in boyish admiration when I first knew him. I held it up in front of her eyes. "You must remember him, Helen!" She gazed at the picture with eyes in which there were tears and a little fright, but not a spark of recognition. Fearing that I was over-exciting her, I sat close to her and drew as best I could a mental picture of Jim. I was only half-way through the recital when the door opened and Doctor Forbes came in.
"The ten minutes are up, Mr. Thompson." I stooped and kissed Helen.
"Promise that you'll come back to-morrow," she whispered. I promised and hurried from the room. Outside the doctor awaited me questioningly.
"Her memory is completely gone!" I gasped.
The doctor patted me on the shoulder sympathetically.
"We suspected that day before yesterday. I would have told you before, but thought that your questions might start her memory functioning." I gripped him by both arms. "But, Doctor, can nothing be done? Will she have to—have to begin all over again?" "I can't say yet. There may be some pressure there still. We'll have to wait until she is much stronger before we can tell."
