“Manning came down to my place about an hour ago, and said for me to come right up here and personate him again for an hour or so, and then he said he’d never trouble me again.” “You came willingly?” “Oh, the poor chap was so upset, seemed in danger, and said I could save his life by doing this.” “You have. Of course he’s miles away by now. What a mess—oh, _what_ a mess!” Prescott was disgusted. First that such a gigantic hoax had been put over on him, and second that he had utterly lost all chance to catch the perpetrator thereof. “You put it over neatly enough,” Prescott growled, looking at the man, Taylor. “Yes, but I nearly muffed it. While I was dressing here that night, some guy called up to know Robert Gleason’s address. I hadn’t a notion, but I chanced to see a little address book on the desk, and I soon found it.” “Yes, that was the butler of Davenport’s patient,” Prescott remembered. “Well, it was one great game. And we’ve lost our man!” And then Pennington Wise came. “Taylor?” he said, looking curiously at the double. “Well, you _are_ an exact duplicate!” “What do you know about this?” cried Prescott, “Where’s Pollard?” “Dead,” replied Wise, gravely. “I’ve just left your place, Taylor, and your precious half-brother shot himself there fifteen minutes ago.” “Spill it,” commanded Prescott. “I knew when I got the message from Pollard that the dupe would be here so I sent you, Prescott, while I went down to Taylor’s home. As I expected, Pollard was there. He made a full confession, seeing the game was up, and then eluding my watchfulness, he shot himself. I called the police in and I came up here to tell you.” “I can’t get over it,” said Prescott, his eyes wide with wonder. “What a scheme!” “Simple in the main,” said Wise, “but elaborate as to details. He left nothing unprovided for. He foresaw every condition and met it. The only thing, and the thing that proved his undoing was his forgetting that Mr Taylor had not enjoyed the same social advantages that he himself had.” “What do you mean?” growled Taylor. “He had evening clothes ready for you here. He planned for every item of your conduct, but he couldn’t know that you would wear a wrist watch with evening dress! That little incident caught the attention of Zizi, and from that she instantly deduced that the man that got into that taxi with a wrist watch on in the evening, could not have been Manning Pollard himself! Moreover, he drew the attention of the doorman to the time on its illuminated dial, and so, the luminous face fixed the time, but Pollard would have had on no wrist watch.” “That’s so,” agreed Prescott, “Pollard’s a perfect dresser, I happen to know.”