“Any idea how you got there?”

“I do not honestly know. The people who saved me found me by the train tracks. They assumed that I rode on a freight train.”

“What people?”

“A kindly farm family. They nursed me through winter into spring before I began to remember.”

Challenging the man who Danielle had called a thief and a confidence man, who had changed his name from Prestogiacomo to Celere while fleeing his past, and who James Dashwood suspected might have murdered Danielle’s father in San Francisco and disguised the crime as a suicide, Bell kept peppering him with questions.

“Any idea how you happened to get amnesia?”

“I know precisely how.” Celere ran his fingers along the scar on his scalp. “I was hunting with Harry Frost. He shot me.”

“What brings you to the Arizona Territory?”

“I have come to help Josephine win the race in my flying machine. May I see her, please?”

Bell asked, “When did you last read a newspaper?”

“I saw a scrap of one last week in the Kansas City yards.”

“Are you aware that your heavy biplane smashed?”

“No! Can it be fixed?”

“It ran into a mountain.”

“That is most disturbing. What of the driver?”

“What you would expect.”

Celere put down his fork. “That is terrible. I am so sorry. I hope it was not the fault of the machine.”

“The machine was as worn out as the rest of them. It’s a long race.”

“But a magnificent challenge,” said Celere.

“I should also warn you,” said Bell, watching his eyes closely, “that Josephine has remarried.”

Celere surprised him. He would have thought Celere would be troubled to learn that his girlfriend had married. Instead, he said, “Wonderful! I am so happy for her! But what of her marriage to Frost?”

“Annulled.”

“Good. That is only right. He was a terrible husband to her. To whom has she been married?”

“Preston Whiteway.”

Celere clapped his hands in delight. “Ah! Perfect!”

“Why is that perfect?”

“She is a racer. He is a race promoter. A marriage made in Heaven. I can’t wait to congratulate him and wish her happiness.”

Bell glanced at Texas Walt, who was listening at the door, then asked the Italian inventor, “Would you care to get cleaned up first? I’ll find you a razor and some fresh clothes. There’s a washroom in the back of the hangar car.”

“Grazie! Thank you. I really must look a sight.”

Bell exchanged glances with Texas Walt again and answered with a smile that didn’t light his eyes. “You look pretty much like a fellow who crossed the continent in a freight car.”

Bell and Hatfield led him to the washroom and gave him a towel and razor.

“Thank you, thank you. Could I ask one more favor?”

“What would you like?”

“Would there be some brilliantine?” He ran his fingers through his dirty hair. “That I might smooth my hair?”