“Do you remember how you got in this house?” The Unknown made an effort.

“Yes—­I—­remember—­that—­all—­right” he said, apparently undergoing an enormous strain in order to make himself speak at all.  He put his hand to his head.

“My—­head—­aches—­to—­beat—­the—­band,” he continued slowly.

Miss Cornelia was at a loss.  If this were acting, it was at least fine acting.

“How did you happen to come to this house?” she persisted, her voice unconsciously tuning itself to the slow, laborious speech of the Unknown.

“Saw—­the—­lights.”

Bailey broke in with a question.

“Where were you when you saw the lights?”

The Unknown wet his lips with his tongue, painfully.

“I—­broke—­out—­of—­the—­garage,” he said at length.  This was unexpected.  A general movement of interest ran over the group.

“How did you get there?” Beresford took his turn as questioner.

The Unknown shook his head, so slowly and deliberately that Miss Cornelia’s fingers itched to shake him in spite of his injuries.

“I—­don’t—­know.”

“Have you been robbed?” queried Bailey with keen suspicion.

The Unknown mumbled something unintelligible.  Then he seemed to get command of his tongue again.

“Everything gone—­out of—­my pockets,” he said.

“Including your watch?” pursued Bailey, remembering the watch that Beresford had found in the grounds.

The Unknown would neither affirm nor deny.

“If—­I—­had—­a—­watch—­it’s gone,” he said with maddening deliberation.  “All my—­papers—­are gone.”

Miss Cornelia pounced upon this last statement like a cat upon a mouse.

“How do you know you had papers?” she asked sharply.

For the first time the faintest flicker of a smile seemed to appear for a moment on the Unknown’s features.  Then it vanished as abruptly as it had come.

“Most men—­carry papers—­don’t they?” he asked, staring blindly in front of him.  “I’m dazed—­but—­my mind’s—­all—­right.  If you—­ask me—­I—­think—­I’m—­d-damned funny!”

He gave the ghost of a chuckle.  Bailey and Beresford exchanged glances.

“Did you ring the house phone?” insisted Miss Cornelia.

The Unknown nodded.

“Yes.”

Miss Cornelia and Bailey gave each other a look of wonderment.

“I—­leaned against—­the button—­in the garage—­” he went on.  “Then—­I think—­maybe I—­fainted.  That’s—­not clear.”

His eyelids drooped.  He seemed about to faint again.

Dale rose, and came over to him, with a sympathetic movement of her hand.

“You don’t remember how you were hurt?” she asked gently.

The Unknown stared ahead of him, his eyes filming, as if he were trying to puzzle it out.

“No,” he said at last.  “The first thing I remember—­I was in the garage—­tied.”  He moved his lips.  “I was—­gagged—­too—­that’s —­what’s the matter—­with my tongue—­now—­Then—­I got myself —­free—­and—­got out—­of a window—­”