I will sit up and watch."
Cora added her entreaties to those of her brother, and Laurel
finally agreed to throw herself down on the straw bed in the far
corner of the hut. Cora found room at the other end of the same
bed, and presently their young natures gave in to the urgent demands
of rest. Jack sat alone watching the white faced man who tossed and
turned, muttering incoherent words.
"I did not do it," he would say. "I never saw the note."
"There, you want a drink," said Jack kindly, pressing the tin cup to
the trembling lips.
"But Breslin knows! Oh, if I could only find Breslin!"
"Breslin," Jack repeated, astonished.
"Yes, Brendon Breslin. He knows!"
"Brendon Breslin!" Jack said again. This was the name of the
wealthy man for whom Paul Hastings ran the fast steam launch.
"Oh, my head!" moaned the man, closing his eyes in pain.
Jack realized that this remark about the millionaire might mean a
sudden return of memory, and he resolved to test it further, even at
the risk of giving the aching head more pain. For if the memory
lapsed again it might never be awakened.
"What does Breslin know?" he asked, leaning very dose to the sick
man.
To his surprise the hermit sat bolt upright. "He knows that I never
forged the note. It was that sneaking office boy."
That was the story! This man had been made to believe he had forged
a note.
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