I began to despair of making any discovery, when accident threw in my way two Prussian soldiers who had been in the French cottage.
They confirmed what the German surgeon told the consul, and what Horace himself told me—namely, that no nurse in a black dress was to be seen in the place.
If there had been such a person, she would certainly (the Prussians inform me) have been found in attendance on the injured Frenchmen.
The cross of the Geneva Convention would have been amply sufficient to protect her: no woman wearing that badge of honor would have disgraced herself by abandoning the wounded men before the Germans entered the place."
"In short," interposed Lady Janet, "there is no such person as Mercy Merrick."
"I can draw no other conclusion," said Julian, "unless the English doctor's idea is the right one.
After hearing what I have just told you, he thinks the woman herself is Mercy Merrick."
Lady Janet held up her hand as a sign that she had an objection to make here.
"You and the doctor seem to have settled everything to your entire satisfaction on both sides," she said.
"But there is one difficulty that you have neither of you accounted for yet."
"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?"