BEGINNING OF THE END.

Without Neka as a star performer the company could not play and that night and on Saturday the theatre in Trenton was dark.

All of the others were as anxious concerning Neka’s welfare as was Longfellow Wadsworth, and one after another called at the hospital. Jennie Windom was particularly affected, for in her quiet way she thought Neka the best young man in the world.

It was not until Saturday night that Neka opened his eyes and regained consciousness. Even then he gazed around with nothing but a vacant stare. Longfellow Wadsworth and Bindley stood by, but he recognized neither of them.

“He is out of his mind, as I thought he might be,” said the doctor in attendance. “You had better leave him.”

And much against their will the partners were compelled to go.

The company had been booked in several places in Pennsylvania, but these dates had to be canceled. At first several wanted to go ahead with some hired substitute to take Neka’s place, but Bindley and Wadsworth would not listen to this.

“A substitute would only ruin Neka’s reputation as well as the reputation of our company,” said both. “You must either lay off until he is better or join some other show.”

While Neka lay in the hospital it was learned that the young lady who had been thrown from the cutter was also badly hurt, although not nearly so seriously as the young Fire King. Her name was Grace Bartford, and she had been taken to the home of her guardian, Maxwell Kent, a merchant of Trenton. Maxwell Kent came to see Neka, and said that his ward had desired to see him also as soon as she was able to go out.

To Neka the whole world had taken on a different look with that awful fall that had appeared to crush out his very life. The first he realized was that he was on his back in a strange room, with strange faces about him. Not for several hours after did the recollection of what had taken place come back to him.

It was fully a week before he knew any one, and then to attempt to do any talking or thinking set his head to throbbing painfully.

“You must keep perfectly still, Mr. Neka,” said the nurse who attended him. “Try to content yourself and leave off thinking and talking.”

“But my friends----”

“Are all here and wish you to do as I have advised. All your affairs are being well taken care of.”

Two days later, however, Neka insisted on having a talk with Longfellow Wadsworth, and the elocutionist told him what had been done.

“We can well afford to wait,” he said. “We have made so much money, you know.”

But he did not add that he had engaged a specialist to attend Neka, and the specialist charged fifty dollars a day, an amount that was eating up their savings fast. The specialist had come down from New York City, and it was only his great skill that saved Neka from being crippled, both mentally and physically.

On the day that Neka and Wadsworth had the talk, the detective sent a long letter down from Cambron relating to Neka’s past. Longfellow Wadsworth took the liberty of opening and perusing this letter, and then, in high excitement, showed it to Bindley, who also read it with keen interest.

“It can’t be the same,” cried Bindley, as he looked at the elocutionist.

“It’s certainly extraordinary,” commented Longfellow Wadsworth. “But then you must remember that truth is stranger than fiction.”

The contents of the letter were discussed for a long while, and then of a sudden Wadsworth leaped to his feet.

“I think I can find out something,” he said.

“How?” asked Bindley.

“Do you remember that peculiar bit of carved and polished ivory Neka has?”

“Certainly.”

“That looks as if his father might have been engaged at one time in the African export trade. All the ivory comes from Africa and Asia.”

“That’s rather long drawn.”

“Wait and hear me out. I’m going to take that bit of ivory and learn if there is another like it.”

“By jove, that’s a scheme,” exclaimed Bindley.

The matter was dropped at the entrance of Joe Windom, but Longfellow Wadsworth lost no time in riding over to the hospital, his errand being to obtain the bit of ivory, which Neka had lately taken to wearing around his neck.

Neka was sleeping at the time, and he decided to wait, rather than to arouse the lad.

While he sat in the reception-room, looking over a local paper, a coach drove up to the door and a young lady, assisted by an elderly man, got out.

The young lady was Grace Bartford, and the gentleman with her was her guardian.

On catching sight of the young lady, who could walk but slowly, and then only by leaning on her guardian’s arm, Longfellow Wadsworth’s face became a study.

“It’s fate,” he muttered to himself. “It’s fate, nothing less.”

Soon the two came into the room. Maxwell Kent had met the elocutionist, and now introduced his ward.

“I have come to see the brave young man who risked his life to save me,” said Grace Bartford. “I understand he is your partner.”

“Yes, and he is, indeed, brave,” responded Longfellow Wadsworth.

He was so excited over something he hardly knew what he was saying.

The attendant now came in to announce that Neka was awake, and the visitors might see him. At once Grace Bartford threw aside her outer wraps.

And then Longfellow Wadsworth caught sight of something suspended from a gold chain around her neck that caused him to almost shout for joy.

It was an ivory ornament, carved and polished, exactly similar to that belonging to Neka.