'But--but--what infernal trick has been played on us?'

'That is what I propose immediately to learn.'

I chimed in.

'And I also.'

'Possibly,' suggested Foster, 'Howarth may be able to offer an explanation.'

I came in.

'Douglas! Don't tell me that Douglas mistook another chap for me. It's too thin.'

'We all mistook him.'

'All? Who's all? What did you know about it? I don't believe you know me now. You were a nice little boy when I saw you last, and I shouldn't have recognised you; that moustache does make a difference.

I don't feel flattered. You seem to have been in a deuce of a hurry to take it for granted I was dead. Sorry to disappoint you, but do wait till I've had my innings.'

'Where have you been all these years?'

'What the deuce has that to do with you?'

'We never heard from you; we thought you were dead.'

'It was because you didn't think that I was dead that you arranged that some one else should die instead of me. It's lucky for you that I've come now. If I'd waited till you'd got both your fists in the money-box there might have been trouble. And do you mean to say that you've got some rank outsider down at Cressland in a coffin which bears my name?'

'I don't mean to say anything of the kind.'

'Then who have you got? Are you suggesting that you've got me?'

'That--that's the most infernal part of it! A pretty trick's been played by some one! It's not a man at all.'

'Not a man? Is it a woman?'

'It's a confounded doll!' I leaned back in my chair and laughed. He didn't seem to like it. 'It's all very well to laugh, but it's got up so confoundedly like you that--that----' He hesitated; then brought it out with a plunge. 'Look here, Twickenham, has all this been a joke of yours?'

Although I didn't know it, the question offered me the greatest chance I had had--or was to have. If I'd only owned up that it was a joke, and I'd been amusing myself by bamboozling Howarth, and all the lot of them, I believe--well, I believe it might have been easier. But we're bats--even those of us who have the keenest sight; and I didn't see at the moment what the result of a negative would be. So I let him have it straight from the shoulder; the funniest part being that I thought I was doing something cute.

'What do you mean? Or, rather, perhaps you hadn't better tell me what you do mean. We might both of us be sorry. I don't want to prosecute my only brother; but when, to cover your own action, you suggest that I've been conspiring to defraud myself for your benefit, it's a trifle steep. Especially as Foster tells me you've already got hold of twenty thousand pounds.'

He put himself on a chair by the table, and he covered his face with his hands.

'I wish I was dead!' was the observation which he made.

While Foster and I were watching him some one else appeared at the door--Augustus FitzHoward.

CHAPTER XXIII

SURPRISES

Seeing FitzHoward gave me just a little something of a turn. I got then and there the first faint glimmer at the mistake I'd made. But as it's a motto of mine to put on an extra size in smiles each time I'm downed, I just sat tight and wondered who he was. There didn't seem to be much in the wonder line about him. He came sailing straight across at me, his hand stretched out. 'Mr. Babbacombe!'

His tone betokened joy. I knew FitzHoward. I wasn't responsive.

'Who's this person with his hat on his head? Has it become the rule here for men to enter a room with their hats on?'

This was one for Reggie as well as Fitz. Both hats were off before I'd hardly finished. Fitz's enthusiasm seemed a little damped. His hand went back.

'Mr. Babbacombe, I--I was afraid you were dead.'

'What are you talking about? Foster, I hope I don't happen to have dropped into the wrong house by any chance. First I'm mistaken for a ghost, then--for the deuce knows who.'

Fitz kept staring at me as if he couldn't stare enough.

'You're either Montagu Babbacombe or his ghost!'

'Sorry, but I don't chance to be either. And as I've not the pleasure of your acquaintance, and don't desire your intrusion here, allow me to remind you that the street's handy. Foster, touch the bell.'

Foster touched the bell. Reggie interposed.

'Twickenham, this gentleman, Mr. FitzHoward, has rendered me a very great service in exposing the fraud that has been practised.'

I sat tight. A footman appeared.

'Show Lord Reginald's acquaintance to the front door.'

Poor Fitz was all of a fl.u.s.ter.

'I'm a man who requires no second hint that my room's preferred to my company, but if you're not Montagu Babbacombe I'll eat my hat.'

He clapped it on to his head as if to ill.u.s.trate his meaning. Reggie stopped him as he was going.

'I am very much obliged to you, Mr. FitzHoward, for what you have done for me; and trust to be able to avail myself of an early opportunity to tender you my thanks in a more suitable form.'

'My lord, you are welcome. Any little service I may do you I am always yours to command.'

Out marched Fitz, with banners flying. I turned my attention to Reggie.

'Reggie, to save trouble later on, may I call your attention to two points? The first is, that I'm not dead. The second is, that I should be obliged by your not using my house as if it were your own. As I have still something which I wish to say to Foster, will you have the extreme kindness to allow me to say it?' He was turning away with--I'll bet a pound!--unfraternal feelings in his breast--strange how little brotherly affection some men have--when a thought occurred to me. 'By the way, where's Douglas?'

'He's ill.'

'Ill? Since when?'

'Since this morning.'