XXII
Some few weeks after his visit to Colonel Morehead at the Barristers' Club, Peter V. Wilkinson presented himself at the Riverside Drive house. He had waited until he had grown a stubbly beard once more before introducing himself to his family, and then one morning, feeling very much as he looked, he had come in straggling, half-dazed, tired, bedraggled, a sad object to behold, but in spite of all he was received, like the proverbial prodigal, with open arms.
Then followed days of explanation and secret conferences. His family physician had diagnosed his case as one of loss of memory; Murgatroyd had thrown up his hat in glee; the county force at once became active; the newspapers chattered in cold type like magpies; and what is more, the final stay obtained by Colonel Morehead was dr
