He walked hastily across the room; then, with his hand on the door, he paused. “You go first, Blessington,” he said. “I'll--I'll follow you in ten minutes. I must glance through the newspapers first.” Blessington looked uncertain. “You won't forget, sir?” “Forget? Of course not.” Still doubtfully, Blessington left the room and closed the door. Once alone, Chilcote walked slowly back to the table, drew up his chair, and sat down with his eyes on the white cloth, the paper lying unheeded beside him. Time passed. A servant came into the room to remove the breakfast. Chilcote moved slightly when necessary, but otherwise retained his attitude. The servant, having finished his task, replenished the fire and left the room. Chilcote still sat on. At last, feeling numbed, he rose and crossed to the fireplace. The clock on the mantel-piece stared him in the face. He looked at it, started slightly, then drew out his watch. Watch and clock corresponded. Each marked twelve o'clock. With a nervous motion he leaned forward and pressed the electric bell long and hard. Instantly a servant answered. “Is Mr. Blessington in the study?” Chilcote asked. “He was there, sir, five minutes back.” Chilcote looked relieved. “All right! Tell him I have gone out--had to go out. Something important. You understand?” “I understand, sir.” But before the words had been properly spoken Chilcote had passed the man and walked into the hall. III Leaving his house, Chilcote walked forward quickly and aimlessly. With the sting of the outer air the recollection of last night's adventure came back upon him. Since the hour of his waking it had hung about with vague persistence, but now in the clear light of day it seemed to stand out with a fuller peculiarity. The thing was preposterous, nevertheless it was genuine. He was wearing the overcoat he had worn, the night before, and, acting on impulse, he thrust his hand into the pocket and drew out the stranger's card. “Mr. John Loder!” He read the name over as he walked along, and it mechanically repeated itself in his brain--falling into measure with his steps. Who was John Loder? What was he? The questions tantalized him till his pace unconsciously increased. The thought that two men so absurdly alike could inhabit the same, city and remain unknown to each other faced him as a problem: it tangled with his personal worries and aggravated them. There seemed to be almost a danger in such an extraordinary likeness. He began to regret his impetuosity in thrusting his card upon the man. Then, again, how he had let himself go on the subject of Lexington! How narrowly he had escaped compromise! He turned hot and cold at the recollection of what he had said and what he might have said. Then for the first time he paused in his walk and looked about him.