The room was dark in its old oak panelling; there was but
the one lamp on the table behind him, and it was by the light of the
fire that he had to scrutinise the newcomer. So far as he could see the
fellow was not unlike himself: he seemed to have the high-ridged nose of
the family, which had become almost a birthmark in course of years. Yet
the sardonic hardness of chin and jaw was very different to his own
flabbiness; and as he watched his opposite Osbaldistone felt hatred
surge up within his soul.

He had heard of men having their 'double.' Perhaps this was his own. He
shivered at the thought.

Then he recollected that a branch of the family had long years ago
migrated to Virginia. Possibly the fellow was one of their descendants.

'Are you from America?' he inquired. Then he went on in haste, not
waiting for reply, 'For myself, I've only just arrived here. The only
servants are an ancient housekeeper and her little niece, and I can't do
with visitors--you'll understand me. Take a whisky and soda and then
go,' and the speaker ended with a snarl and suggestive stretch of leg
and boot.

'You are not very hospitable,' replied his opposite, suavely as before,
'but it matters little, nor do I require a whisky and soda. I simply
called in for a "crack," as you say up here, and to congratulate you on
succeeding.'

'A crack!' echoed his host surlily. 'What about?'

'Oh, about our family and yourself,' returned the other caressingly. 'I
am something of a genealogist, love family histories and dote on
skeletons in the cupboard. As a matter of fact, ours is a singularly
dull chronicle: except that the head of the family was an unsuccessful
rebel in the "15," we never travelled beyond our Anglo-Saxon
fatherdom--deep drinking, gambling, hard riding--and the _droit de
Seigneur_'--here the speaker paused a moment--'this little niece, for
example?' he hinted delicately.

'How the devil has the fellow guessed that?' thought Osbaldistone, white
with anger and touched by secret fear.

'Get out!' he cried hoarsely, and felt if his revolver lay handy in his
pocket, ready for use if needful.

His guest, however, took no notice of the command. Indeed, he went on
more coolly than before. 'I mention it,' said he, 'because there was an
ugly story about in British East Africa when you were farming out in the
wilds beyond Simba, of the rape of a native girl, who was eventually
turned out of doors at night and never reached her home