HE DOPPEL-GANGER

So this was the old home--the cradle of his race!

Percy Osbaldistone of Osbaldistone Tower gazed curiously about him in
what had formerly been the library, and espied a capacious Queen Anne
chair by the fireside which looked inviting.

Having ensconced himself therein he put up his feet against the
mantelpiece, lit a long cigar, and drew in the smoke slowly and
meditatively.

The old housekeeper and her pretty niece had given him a good supper,
and he himself, foreseeing empty cellars, had brought with him an ample
freight, so now at the long last he had arrived in harbour.

After all his vicissitudes and being for years the black sheep of the
ancient family, that he should come into possession of Osbaldistone
Tower and Manor touched his vein of humour.

He laughed grimly, rubbed one hand upon the other, and looked
contemptuously up at the portrait of an ancestor who seemed to be
scowling at the last representative of his race. It was true that there
was not much of the old family estate left, and what was left was
mortgaged, but still it was good for a few thousands, and the family
lawyer had to find them or go. The heir of the Osbaldistones continued
his reflections. He didn't 'give a damn' for his ancestors, for what had
they done save bring him into the world--a doubtful blessing?

'_Apres moi le Deluge_,' murmured he to himself with a cynical smile, as
he ensconced himself deeper in the recesses of his armchair and drank
deep from the glass by his side. His hand shook badly, and he spilled
some drops of whisky and soda upon his trousers.

'Damn!' cried he in annoyance. Then to himself _sotto voce_, 'Now that
I've got back to this old quiet place I'll soon have my rotten nerves
right again.'

Looking up after wiping his trousers he suddenly perceived to his great
astonishment, for he had heard no sound of entrance, a fellow seated in
the chair opposite which nestled under the Spanish leather screen that
kept off the draught from the door behind.

'Who the devil are you?' inquired the Lord of the Manor angrily, 'and
what d' ye want?'

'I am an Osbaldistone like yourself,' replied the stranger suavely; 'we
are the last of the ancient house that bears upon its chevron the spear
and spurs (mullets), so when I heard of your good fortune I thought it
but polite to call and gratulate you on your succession.'

Percy Osbaldistone looked across upon his unwelcome visitor with
narrowed eyes.