The big man's manner was affable. He turned to the manager. "You must excuse us for one moment, we have just a word to say to our friend Buxton. Here is our little private sitting-room most convenient--just a word." Before Hubert had altogether realised the situation, the big man had thrust his arm through his, and drawn him into a sitting-room which opened off the corridor from the left. When they were in, the big man locked the door--he not only locked the door, but in an ostentatious manner he pocketed the key. CHAPTER III. THE UNFORTUNATE RESULT OF BEING A TWIN. "So, Mr. Buxton, you don't know me?" "Nor me?" The larger stranger stood against the door. The lesser one, who appeared to be acting as echo, leaned against a table. He began, with a slightly overacted air of carelessness, to roll a cigarette. There was something about this little man which Hubert did not like at all. He was a short, wiry individual, with long, straight black hair, hollow, sallow, shaven cheeks, high projecting cheek-bones, and a pair of small black eyes, which he had a trick of screwing up until only the pupils could be seen. His personal attractions were not enhanced by a huge mole which occupied a conspicuous place in the middle of his left cheek. But if he liked the appearance of the small man little, it was not because he liked the appearance of the tall man more. This was a great hulking fellow, with sandy whiskers and moustache, and a manner which, in spite of its greasy insinuation, Hubert felt was distinctly threatening. "Is it really possible, Mr. Buxton, that I have had the misfortune to escape your memory?" "And me?" Hubert glanced from one to the other. That the little man was a foreigner, probably an Italian, he made up his mind at once. As to the nationality of the big man he was not so sure. He had had dealings with some strange people in his time, both at home and abroad. But he could not recollect encountering either of these gentlemen before. "I do not remember having ever seen either of you." "Oh, you do not remember?" The big man came a step nearer. "You do not remember that pleasant evening in that little room at Nice?" "You do not remember slapping my face?" quickly exclaimed the little man, suddenly slapping his own right cheek with startling vigour. "You do not remember accusing me of cheating you at cards?" "You do not remember placing an insult on me! on me! on me?" All at once, abandoning the process of manufacturing his cigarette, the little man came and placed himself in even uncomfortable proximity to Hubert's person. "My friend, my cheek is burning to this very hour." Hubert did not like the look of things at all. He was _sure_ he had never seen these men before. "I understand the position exactly. You are doing what people constantly are doing--you are mistaking me for my brother." "Mistaking you for your brother? I am mistaking you for your brother?"