you are, and what happened, and all that?”
“No.”
“You
did
take a beating! Well, you took one of your spur-of-the-moment runs on the
Trigger
, all by yourself. I guess we’ll never know where you were bound unless you can remember it sometime. My guess is that you went out there to be morbid.” She laughed a little. “Chances are that you saw the
Seabreeze
and went over to investigate. But before you could get near enough to help, you fell down the hatch and knocked yourself out. How you could have been messed up like that is a mystery to me.”
“
Seabreeze?
” he said.
“Hey! Is that a yes-or-no? The
Seabreeze
was a tanker that exploded right near where they picked you up. A terrible thing; killed every soul aboard. They were looking for survivors when they found you.”
He raised his hand to his face again.
“Oh, the damage? Lucky break you’re living in the twentieth century, Steve. Besides a strained shoulder and a couple of broken ribs, your face … but don’t worry about it. This is Dr. Dubois’s clinic. He’s rebuilding your face from photographs. He says that a year from now no one will ever even guess that he’s been working on you. It’s costing you plenty, Steve, but you always did say that you had too much money. Anything else?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s see … I think I’ve covered everything …”
“Who are you?”
A great amazement turned swiftly to hurt in her clear eyes. “Steve … you don’t know me? Remember Orlando, Steve, and what Winchell called our ‘whirlwind courtship’? Remember the fight we had, Steve, when you told me I bored you, and you went off in a paddy?” Anger suddenly flared. She was beautiful that way. “Steve, if you’re putting this on … don’t play games with me!”
“No! No!” he cried.
“It’s true then?” She leaned back in her chair, overcome. Then,
“Permit me to introduce myself. Mr. Roupe, meet Miss Perry. Sandra to you. Chawmed, I’m sure.”
“Roupe?” he said weakly.
“Steve! Even your own— Don’t you remember anything?”
“No!” he cried, agonized. “No!”
“Oh, Steve, I’ve tired you out. I’m a fool. Don’t worry about it darling. Please. It will be all right.” She leaned over and lightly kissed his bandages. Suddenly she was all intentness. “Listen to me, Steve. No one must know of this. There are too many people that would welcome this as a godsend. You are a very rich man. If it could be proved in court that you had completely lost your memory, ways might be found to put you in a sanitarium, so that your money could be handled by someone else. I think we can do it. You’ve always been a peculiar, uncommunicative sort of man. Keep that up, only more so. We’ll brave this thing through, you and I.”
“Sandra, I—”
“Shhhh. Leave it to me. You’ll be on your feet before long and we can—”
“Time, Miss Perry,” said a voice at the door. A tall, gaunt man with exquisite hands came in and stood looking down at them.
“Doctor, he’s really awake!” Sandra said joyfully. “He knows me!”
“Great stuff!” said Dubois. “You’ll be your old self again in no time!” The old bromide.
And with a wink and a grin, Sandra was gone. They put Steve Roupe on a wheeled table and took him in to his third operation.
Eight months later Steve and Sandra went to their first party since the accident. It had been a hectic time for both of them, those months. A thousand and one details had been painstakingly taken care of. Every day there was some strange new development in the rebuilding of the man called Roupe.
There was the handwriting, for instance. In going over hundreds of documents, they had found that his old signature differed entirely from his new one. And Steve had spent two hours a day, every day, in painstakingly learning his old hand.
Then there were people. When he returned to his huge home near Boca Raton, Steve was deluged with invitations and visits. The servants
“No.”
“You
did
take a beating! Well, you took one of your spur-of-the-moment runs on the
Trigger
, all by yourself. I guess we’ll never know where you were bound unless you can remember it sometime. My guess is that you went out there to be morbid.” She laughed a little. “Chances are that you saw the
Seabreeze
and went over to investigate. But before you could get near enough to help, you fell down the hatch and knocked yourself out. How you could have been messed up like that is a mystery to me.”
“
Seabreeze?
” he said.
“Hey! Is that a yes-or-no? The
Seabreeze
was a tanker that exploded right near where they picked you up. A terrible thing; killed every soul aboard. They were looking for survivors when they found you.”
He raised his hand to his face again.
“Oh, the damage? Lucky break you’re living in the twentieth century, Steve. Besides a strained shoulder and a couple of broken ribs, your face … but don’t worry about it. This is Dr. Dubois’s clinic. He’s rebuilding your face from photographs. He says that a year from now no one will ever even guess that he’s been working on you. It’s costing you plenty, Steve, but you always did say that you had too much money. Anything else?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s see … I think I’ve covered everything …”
“Who are you?”
A great amazement turned swiftly to hurt in her clear eyes. “Steve … you don’t know me? Remember Orlando, Steve, and what Winchell called our ‘whirlwind courtship’? Remember the fight we had, Steve, when you told me I bored you, and you went off in a paddy?” Anger suddenly flared. She was beautiful that way. “Steve, if you’re putting this on … don’t play games with me!”
“No! No!” he cried.
“It’s true then?” She leaned back in her chair, overcome. Then,
“Permit me to introduce myself. Mr. Roupe, meet Miss Perry. Sandra to you. Chawmed, I’m sure.”
“Roupe?” he said weakly.
“Steve! Even your own— Don’t you remember anything?”
“No!” he cried, agonized. “No!”
“Oh, Steve, I’ve tired you out. I’m a fool. Don’t worry about it darling. Please. It will be all right.” She leaned over and lightly kissed his bandages. Suddenly she was all intentness. “Listen to me, Steve. No one must know of this. There are too many people that would welcome this as a godsend. You are a very rich man. If it could be proved in court that you had completely lost your memory, ways might be found to put you in a sanitarium, so that your money could be handled by someone else. I think we can do it. You’ve always been a peculiar, uncommunicative sort of man. Keep that up, only more so. We’ll brave this thing through, you and I.”
“Sandra, I—”
“Shhhh. Leave it to me. You’ll be on your feet before long and we can—”
“Time, Miss Perry,” said a voice at the door. A tall, gaunt man with exquisite hands came in and stood looking down at them.
“Doctor, he’s really awake!” Sandra said joyfully. “He knows me!”
“Great stuff!” said Dubois. “You’ll be your old self again in no time!” The old bromide.
And with a wink and a grin, Sandra was gone. They put Steve Roupe on a wheeled table and took him in to his third operation.
Eight months later Steve and Sandra went to their first party since the accident. It had been a hectic time for both of them, those months. A thousand and one details had been painstakingly taken care of. Every day there was some strange new development in the rebuilding of the man called Roupe.
There was the handwriting, for instance. In going over hundreds of documents, they had found that his old signature differed entirely from his new one. And Steve had spent two hours a day, every day, in painstakingly learning his old hand.
Then there were people. When he returned to his huge home near Boca Raton, Steve was deluged with invitations and visits. The servants
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