A DENIAL OF IDENTITY
Confused shouts, cries, and orders echoed over the field, Mr. Pertell,
dropping his megaphone, rushed toward the scene of the accident, calling
on Russ to follow and yelling back an order to have the stretcher men
and the doctor follow him.
Dr. Wherry was even then waiting in readiness, for it had been feared
that this big scene might result painfully, if not dangerously, for more
than one. Some men had also been detailed as stretcher bearers and were
in waiting.
"Shall we film this?" asked one of Russ's helpers, as the former dashed
past on his way to help Estelle.
"No. Don't take that accident. It won't fit in with the rest of the
film. It's all right up to that point, though. We can make a retake of
the last few feet if we have to."
Even in this time of danger and suspense it was necessary to think of
the play. That must go on, no matter what happened to the players.
"Go on with the cavalry charge--farther over!" directed Mr. Pertell,
when he arrived on the scene and found a group of men about the fallen
girl. "You can't do any good here. We'll look after her. I can't delay
any longer on this scene. Go on with the charge, and carry out the
program as it was outlined to you. Russ, you look after the camera men."
"What about Estelle?"
"Dr. Wherry and I will see to her."
The girl's golden hair was tumbled about her head, having come loose and
fallen from under her hat in her fall. She lay in a senseless heap at
one side of her horse. The animal had not gotten up, and at first it was
thought he had been killed. But it developed that Estelle had trained
him to play "dead" after a fall of this kind, and the intelligent
creature must have thought this was one of those occasions.
"Easy with her, boys," cautioned the director, as the stretcher men
tenderly picked up the limp form. "She may have some broken bones."
They placed her carefully on the stretcher and bore her to the hospital.
Mrs. Maguire was ready to assist the trained nurse, who was kept ready
for just such emergencies.
"The poor little dear!" exclaimed the motherly Irish woman. "Poor little
dear!"
Meanwhile, the cavalry charge went on. Estelle had done her part in
this. Was it the last part she was to play?
Ruth and Alice asked themselves this as they hurried toward the
hospital.
"Oh, if she should be killed!" gasped Ruth.
"Wouldn't it be dreadful? And no one to tell who she really is," added
Alice. "We must go to her."
"Yes, as soon as they will let us see her," agreed Ruth.
Dr. Wherry and the trained nurse were busy over the injured girl. A
quick examination disclosed no broken bones, but it could not yet be
told whether or not there were internal injuries. They could only wait
for her to recover consciousness and hope for the best. All that could
be done was done.
"Plucky little girl!" murmured Mr. Pertell, when told that Estelle was
resting easily, but was still insensible. "She must have seen that she
was going to have a bad fall, but she kept on and saved the film for us.
We won't have to retake her scene at all--merely cut out the accident.
Do your best for her, Dr. Wherry."
"I will, you may be sure."
Ruth and Alice were told that they could see Estelle as soon as she
recovered consciousness, and it was safe for visitors to be admitted.
And several hours after the accident the nurse, Miss Lyon, came to
summon them from their room, where they were waiting.
"She has opened her eyes," Miss Lyon said.
"Did she ask for us?" Alice asked.
"I can't say that she did. She seems dazed yet. Sometimes in falls like
this, where the head is injured, it is days before the patient realizes
what has happened."
"Is her head injured?" Ruth inquired.
"Yes, she seems to have received a hard blow on it. Whether there is a
fracture or a concussion Dr. Wherry had not yet determined. It will take
a little time to decide. Meanwhile, you may see her, just for a moment."
Alice and Ruth softly entered the room where Estelle lay on a white bed.
Her face was pale, but her eyes were bright. There was a subtle odor of
disinfectants, of opiates and of other drugs in the room--a veritable
hospital atmosphere.
"Don't startle her," cautioned the nurse, motioning for silence.
"We'll be careful," promised Alice, in a whisper.
The two sisters approached the bed. Estelle looked at them but, strange
to say, there was no look of recognition in her eyes. Ruth and Alice
might have been two strangers for all the notice Estelle took of them.
"She--she doesn't know us," whispered Ruth.
"She will, as soon as you speak," said Miss Lyon. "Just talk to her in a
low voice, but naturally. She'll know you then, I'm sure."
"How--how are you feeling?" asked Ruth, in a whisper.
There was no response--no light of recognition in the eyes.
"A little louder and call her by name," suggested the nurse.
"You try, Alice," Ruth whispered.
Her sister stepped to the bedside.
"Estelle, don't you know me?" Alice asked.
The eyes turned in the direction of the voice.
"Were you speaking to me?" came the question, and both Ruth and Alice
started at the changed tones of their friend.
"Yes, to you," Alice answered.
"I--I _don't_ know you," was the gentle response.
"Don't you know me--Alice DeVere? And this is my sister, Ruth. Don't you
know us, Estelle?"
"Is your name Estelle?" came the query.
"No, that is _your_ name," and Alice smiled, though a cold hand seemed
to be clutching at her heart. "That is your name--you are Estelle. Don't
you remember?"
"Estelle what? Who is Estelle?"
"You are. You are Estelle Brown! Don't you know your own name?"
The golden head on the white pillow was slowly moved from side to side.
The bright eyes showed no sign of recognition. Then came the gentle
voice:
"I am not Estelle Brown. I don't know her. What do you mean? I don't
know any of you. Why am I here? What has happened? I wish you would take
me home at once. I live at the Palace."
"What--what does she mean?" gasped Ruth, looking in alarm at the nurse.
"I don't know. Perhaps she is delirious and imagines she is playing in
the moving pictures. Was there a palace scene?"
"Not since she joined the company. But why does she deny her identity?"
"I can not say. Sometimes after an injury like this happens, people say
queer things. We had better not disturb her further. I'll call Dr.
Wherry."
Alice made one more effort to bring recollection to Estelle.
"Don't you know me, dear?" she asked softly. "I am Alice--your friend
Alice. This is Ruth, and you are Estelle Brown, from Boston, you know."
"Boston? I was never in Boston. And I am not Estelle Brown. You must be
mistaken."
Her eyes roved around the hospital room, and a look of pain and fright
dimmed them. Then, seeming to fear that she had been unkind, she said
gently to Alice:
"I am sorry I do not know you, for you are trying to help me, I am sure.
But I never heard the name Estelle Brown. I am not she--that is certain.
If you would only take me home! My people will be worried. We live at
the Palace and----"
She tried to raise herself up in bed. A look of pain came over her face,
and she fell back with closed eyes.
"She has fainted!" cried Miss Lyon. "I must get Dr. Wherry at once!
Don't disturb her!"
She hastened off, while Ruth and Alice, not knowing what to think, went
softly from the room.