"What is it, aunt?"
"You talk glibly enough, Julian, about this woman's mad assertion that
Grace is the missing nurse, and that she is Grace. But you have not
explained yet how the idea first got into her head; and, more than that,
how it is that she is acquainted with my name and address, and perfectly
familiar with Grace's papers and Grace's affairs. These things are a
puzzle to a person of my average intelligence. Can your clever friend,
the doctor, account for them?"
"Shall I tell you what he said when I saw him this morning?"
"Will it take long?"
"It will take about a minute."
"You agreeably surprise me. Go on."
"You want to know how she gained her knowledge of your name and of Miss
Roseberry's affairs," Julian resumed. "The doctor says in one of two
ways. Either Miss Roseberry must have spoken of you and of her own
affairs while she and the stranger were together in the French cottage,
or the stranger must have obtained access privately to Miss Roseberry's
papers. Do you agree so far?"
Lady Janet began to feel interested for the first time.
"Perfectly," she said. "I have no doubt Grace rashly talked of matters
which an older and wiser person would have kept to herself."
"Very good. Do you also agree that the last idea in the woman's mind
when she was struck by the shell might have been (quite probably) the
idea of Miss Roseberry's identity and Miss Roseberry's affairs? You
think it likely enough? Well, what happens after that? The wounded woman
is brought to life by an operation, and she becomes delirious in the
hospital at Mannheim. During her delirium the idea of Miss Roseberry's
identity ferments in her brain, and assumes its present perverted form.
In that form it still remains. As a necessary consequence, she persists
in reversing the two identities. She says she is Miss Roseberry, and
declares Miss Roseberry to be Mercy Merrick. There is the doctor 's
explanation. What do you think of it?"
"Very ingenious, I dare say. The doctor doesn't quite satisfy me,
however, for all that. I think--"
What Lady Janet thought was not destined to be expressed. She suddenly
checked herself, and held up her hand for the second time.
"Another objection?" inquired Julian.
"Hold your tongue!" cried the old lady. "If you say a word more I shall
lose it again."
"Lose what, aunt?"
"What I wanted to say to you ages ago. I have got it back again--it
begins with a question. (No more of the doctor--I have had enough of
him!) Where is she--_your_ pitiable lady, _my_ crazy wretch--where is
she now? Still in London?"
"Yes."
"And still at large?"
"Still with the landlady, at her lodgings."