Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) (258 page)

"And,"
I
finished,
"I
hadn't
the
faintest
recollection
of
doing it.
My
mind
was
blank
on
the
matter."

"Yes,"
said
Secretan
Jones,
"I
suppose
we
all
suffer
from
that sort
of
thing
at
times.
About
a
year
ago
I
had
a
very
odd
experience of
the
same
kind.
It
troubled
me
a
good
deal
at
the
time.
It
was soon
after
I
had
taken
up
that
question
of
the
new
traffic
and
its
probable—its
certain—results.
As
you
may
have
gathered,
I
have
been absorbed
for
most
of
my
life
in
my
own
special
studies,
which
are remote
enough
from
the
activities
and
interests
of
the
day.
It
hasn't been
at
all
my
way
to
write
to
the
papers
to
say
there
are
too
many dogs
in
London,
or
to
denounce
street
musicians.
But
I
must
say
that the
extraordinary
dangers
of
using
our
present
road
system
for
a traffic
for
which
it
was
not
designed
did
impress
themselves
very deeply
upon
me;
and
I
dare
say
I
allowed
myself
to
be
over-interested and
over-excited.

"There
is
a
great
deal
to
be
said
for
the
Apostolic
maxim:
'Study to
be
quiet
and
to
mind
your
own
business.'
I
am
afraid
I
got
the whole
thing
on
the
brain,
and
neglected
my
own
business,
which
at that
particular
time,
if
I
remember,
was
the
investigation
of
a
very curious
question—the
validity
or
non-validity
of
the
Consecration Formula
of
the
Grand
Saint
Graal:
Car
chou
est
li
sane
di
ma nouviele
Ioy,
Ji
miens
meismes.
Instead
of
attending
to
my
proper work,
I
allowed
myself
to
be
drawn
into
the
discussion
I
had
started, and
for
a
week
or
two
I
thought
of
very
little
else:
even
when
I was
looking
up
authorities
at
the
British
Museum,
I
couldn't
get the
rumble
of
the
motor-van
out
of
my
head.
So,
you
see,
I
allowed myself
to
get
harried
and
worried
and
distracted,
and
I
put
down what
followed
to
all
the
bother
and
excitement
I
was
going
through. The
other
day,
when
you
had
to
leave
your
work
in
the
middle
and start
on
something
else,
I
dare
say
you
felt
annoyed
and
put
out, and
shoved
those
papers
of
yours
away
without
really
thinking
of what
you
were
doing,
and
I
suppose
something
of
the
same
kind happened
to
me.
Though
it
was
still
queerer,
I
think."

He
paused,
and
seemed
to
meditate
doubtfully,
and
then
broke out
with
an
apologetic
laugh,
and:
"It
really
sounds
quite
crazy!" And
then:
"I
forgot
where
I
lived."

"Loss
of
memory,
in
fact,
through
overwork
and
nervous
excitement?"

"Yes,
but
not
quite
in
the
usual
way.
I
was
quite
clear
about
my name
and
my
identity.
And
I
knew
my
address
perfectly
well: Thirty-nine,
Tollit
Square,
Canonbury."