A Queen of the Stage by Fred M. White

These questions Weiss repeated over and over again in the most helpless fashion. He sat down with his head between his hands, trying to puzzle it all out until his brain reeled, and he began to have doubts as to his own sanity. It was getting daylight, and before long somebody would turn up and ask him what he was doing there. The best thing, he concluded, was to go to the nearest police station and explain to the inspector what had happened. In an odd sort of way Weiss was still debating about his identity and what sort of life he had led previously. He had a strange feeling that he had a good deal to conceal and would have to be very careful what he said to the police. He had not the least idea what his financial standing was, but it was some consolation to know that he was well-dressed and that his linen was of the finest and most expensive quality. He had, too, a costly gold watch, but this conjured up a fleeting picture of a dastardly crime in which he had played the part of the chief actor. All this passed in a flash, but it rendered him very hot and uncomfortable.

Then by natural gradation he took to wondering if he belonged to the criminal classes. Had he been engaged in some nocturnal errand and met with an accident? What would happen if he were arrested at the police station as a notorious criminal who was wanted by the authorities.