"if we are not old friends, you
treat me very much as though we were."

A strange convulsion, half smile, half grin, passed over the old man's
face, but he never uttered a word, but stood gazing steadily on the
other.

"You are forgetting yourself, Tom," said Stocmar, angrily. "That
gentleman is not an acquaintance of yours."

"And who told _you_ that?" said the old man, insolently. "Ask himself if
we are not."

"I'm afraid I must give it against you, old boy," said Paten,
good-humoredly. "This is the first time I have had the honor to meet
you."

"It is not!" said the old man, with a solemn and even haughty emphasis.

"I could scarcely have forgotten a man of such impressive manners," said
Paten. "Will you kindly remind me of the where and how you imagine us to
have met?"

"I will," said the other, sternly. "You shall hear the where and the
how. The where was in the High Court, at Jersey, on the 18th of January,
in the year 18--; the how, was my being called on to prove the death,
by corrosive sublimate, of Godfrey Hawke. Now, sir, what say you to my
memory,--is it accurate, or not?"

Had not Paten caught hold of a heavy chair, he would have fallen; even
as it was, he swayed forward and backward like a drunken man.

"And you--you were a doctor in those days, it seems," said he, with an
affected laugh, that made his ghastly features appear almost horrible.

"Yes; they accused _me_ of curing folk, just as they charged _you_ with
killing them. Calumnious world that it is,--lets no man escape!"

[Illustration: 280]

"After all, my worthy friend," said Paten, as he drew Himself haughtily
up, and assumed, though by a great effort, his wonted ease of manner,
"you are deceived by some chance resemblance, for I know nothing about
Jersey, and just as little of that interesting little incident you have
alluded to."

"This is even more than you attempted on the trial. You never dreamed
of so bold a stroke as that, there. No, no, Paul Hunt, I know you well:
that's a gift of mine,--drunk or sober, it has stuck to me through
life,--I never forget a face,--never!"

"Come, come, old Tom," said Stocmar, as he drew forth a sherry decanter
and a large glass from a small recess in the wall, "this is not the
kindliest way to welcome an old friend or make a new one. Taste this
sherry, and take the bottle back with you, if you like the flavor."
Stocmar's keen glance met Paten's eyes, and as quickly the other
understood his