“Yes.”

“His memory of events, at that past time, is hopelessly enfeebled,” said Ezra Jennings.  “It is almost to be deplored, poor fellow, that even the wreck of it remains.  While he remembers dimly plans that he formed—­things, here and there, that he had to say or do before his illness—­he is perfectly incapable of recalling what the plans were, or what the thing was that he had to say or do.  He is painfully conscious of his own deficiency, and painfully anxious, as you must have seen, to hide it from observation.  If he could only have recovered in a complete state of oblivion as to the past, he would have been a happier man.  Perhaps we should all be happier,” he added, with a sad smile, “if we could but completely forget!”

“There are some events surely in all men’s lives,” I replied, “the memory of which they would be unwilling entirely to lose?”

“That is, I hope, to be said of most men, Mr. Blake.  I am afraid it cannot truly be said of all.  Have you any reason to suppose that the lost remembrance which Mr. Candy tried to recover—­while you were speaking to him just now—­was a remembrance which it was important to you that he should recall?”

In saying those words, he had touched, of his own accord, on the very point upon which I was anxious to consult him.  The interest I felt in this strange man had impelled me, in the first instance, to give him the opportunity of speaking to me; reserving what I might have to say, on my side, in relation to his employer, until I was first satisfied that he was a person in whose delicacy and discretion I could trust.  The little that he had said, thus far, had been sufficient to convince me that I was speaking to a gentleman.  He had what I may venture to describe as the unsought self-possession, which is a sure sign of good breeding, not in England only, but everywhere else in the civilised world.  Whatever the object which he had in view, in putting the question that he had just addressed to me, I felt no doubt that I was justified—­so far—­in answering him without reserve.

“I believe I have a strong interest,” I said, “in tracing the lost remembrance which Mr. Candy was unable to recall.  May I ask whether you can suggest to me any method by which I might assist his memory?”

Ezra Jennings looked at me, with a sudden flash of interest in his dreamy brown eyes.

“Mr. Candy’s memory is beyond the reach of assistance,” he said.  “I have tried to help it often enough since his recovery, to be able to speak positively on that point.”

This disappointed me; and I owned it.

“I confess you led me to hope for a less discouraging answer than that,” I said.

Ezra Jennings smiled.  “It may not, perhaps, be a final answer, Mr. Blake.  It may be possible to trace Mr. Candy’s lost recollection, without the necessity of appealing to Mr. Candy himself.”

“Indeed?  Is it an indiscretion, on my part, to ask how?”