"Should say not!" The Englishman’s tone was indignant; and Barry suddenly had a suspicion that, if the fellow had not taken too much already, the limit was not far off. While his enunciation was perfect, there was an expression about his eyes which was unmistakable. "Should say not!" the other repeated. "You know jolly well John Brandon would never disgrace the old name. A plot against me—a beastly plot; that’s what it was!" He took a long drink, and sat staring oddly at Lawrence. "Say, Oscar," he burst out abruptly, "you must have been in the States a bally while, by Jove!" "I have," Barry smiled. "How did you guess it?" "You talk just like these blooming Yankees; ’pon my soul, you do! I’ve been listening for that bit of an accent you used to have, old chap; and I give you my word, it’s gone—you’ve lost it. Funny thing; eh, what?" For a second Barry sat silent, his interest thoroughly aroused. Was it possible that he was on the point of finding the key to the enigma which had so puzzled him. "Accent!" he repeated the next moment. "Did my accent used to be so bad?" Brandon laughed. "Not bad," he chuckled. "Just enough to notice now and then. By Jove! Have you forgotten how we always said you’d be taken for a foreigner sooner or later? You wouldn’t now, old chap. Give you my word, I’d think you were a blooming Yankee if I didn’t know you so well." *CHAPTER XXXII.* *AN EXTRAORDINARY INTERVIEW.* It was at least three-quarters of an hour later when Lawrence left the hotel and walked slowly toward Forty-second Street. He was puzzled, perplexed, and rather piqued; for, in spite of all his efforts, he had been unable to extract from the Englishman a single additional fact which would help him solve the problem which vexed him. Brandon evidently took him for some one else, and the resemblance must have been astonishingly great; for it was evident that the Briton had spent a year, if not more, with Barry’s double at Cambridge. It was the famous English university, of course, and not the equally well-known Massachusetts college. Lawrence had realized that very early in the talk; but, in spite of his repeated efforts, he had been unable to elicit a single additional particular concerning his double, save the fact that Oscar Nordstrom had evidently spent some years as a student in England. While Brandon had plainly been on the most friendly terms with Nordstrom, he seemed curiously ignorant regarding the man’s antecedents. "It’s a queer thing from beginning to end," he murmured as he pushed through the whirling doors of the Knickerbocker. "I wish I could find out who I’m supposed to be. I’ll wager anything that this would solve the whole mystery."