“You did not return to your home.  Shell-shock, Forest tells me, is a curious thing, resulting in many forms of mania.  Yours led you into crime.  For some months you lived as a desperate criminal in Seattle.  You came to yourself in the act of breaking into a bank, only to find that your memory of not only your days of crime but all that had gone before was left a blank.  That night, as you know, marked your arrest.

“Forest has just explained that you are organically sound—­that the recovery of your memory is just a matter of time and the proper stimuli.  Now, Ben, it isn’t the purpose of this State to punish men when they are not responsible for their deeds.  Melville tells me that your record, in your own home, was the best; your war record alone, I believe, would entitle you to the limit of mercy from the State.  I don’t see how we can hold you responsible for deeds done while you were mentally disabled from shell-shock.

“All you need for complete recovery, to call everything back in your mind, is the proper stimuli.  At least that is the opinion of Doctor Forest.  What those proper stimuli are of course no one knows for sure—­but Doctor Forest has a theory; and I think he will tell you that he will share the credit for it with the same man who has been your friend all the way through.  They think they know what is best for you.  The final decision has been put up to me as to whether or not they shall be permitted to give it a trial.

“This good friend of yours has offered to try to put it through.  He has a plan outlined that he’ll tell you of later, that will not only be the best possible influence toward recalling your memory, but will also give you a clean, new start in life.  A chance for every success.

“So you needn’t return to Walla Walla, Darby.  I’m going to parole you—­under the charge of your benefactor.  Melville, from now on it’s up to you.”

The little, withered gray man looked very solemn as he rose.  The others were stricken instantly solemn too, surprised that the droll smile they were so used to seeing had died on the homely, kindly face.  Even his twinkling eyes were sobered too.

Vaguely amused, yet without scorn, McNamara and Forest got up to shake his hand.  “I’ll look after him,” Melville assured them.  “Never fear for that.”

Slight as he was, wasted by the years, his was a figure of unmistakable dignity as he thanked them, gravely and earnestly, for their kindness in Ben’s behalf.  Soon after he and his young charge went out together.

III

There was a great house-cleaning in the dome of the heavens one memorable night that flashed like a jewel from the murky desolation of a rainy spring.  The little winds came in troops, some from the sea, some with loads of balsam from the great forests of the Olympic Peninsula, and some, quite tired out, from the stretching sage plains to the east, and they swept the sky of clouds as a housekeeper sweeps the ceiling of cobwebs.  Not a wisp, not one trailing streamer remained.