Shall I call the house manager, sir?"
At the other's nod he vanished to return with a spectacled man who
looked inquiring.
"I beg your pardon--for intruding," said the bearded man slowly. "But--I
couldn't help it.... I was once a member here."
"Indeed?" said the spectacled man, tentatively cordial, still inquiring.
"And you're name--"
From the bearded lips there came a gutteral sound--as if speech had
failed him. He gazed at the spectacled personage helplessly. "I--don't
know." Sudden weakness seemed to seize him. Still with the helpless
expression in his eyes, he retreated, found a chair and sank into it. He
passed a hand feverishly before his eyes.
The spectacled man acted promptly.
"Garrison, you're one of the ancients round this club," he addressed a
smiling, gray-haired man of plump and jovial mien. "Come and talk to the
Mysterious Stranger.... Says he was a member ten or fifteen years
ago.... Can't recollect who he is."
"What do you wish me to do?" asked Garrison.
"Pretend to recognize him. Talk to him about the Eighties.... Get him
oriented. It's plainly a case of amnesia."
He watched Garrison approach the bearded man with outstretched hand; saw
the other take it, half reluctantly.
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