Mr. Smith put his fingers inside his shirt collar, as if its tightness worried him. It was some seconds before he spoke. Then it was in tones which were curiously unlike his own. 'Yes, it's true--all true.' 'And you are not Montagu Babbacombe?' This was Reggie to me. 'You ask me that, knowing that Babbacombe was the name of the wretch who was his accomplice in the fraud of which you have just now heard--is that so?' 'It's a question of resemblance.' 'Are you asking me if I'm the wretch in question? Answer!' 'When you put it that way it seems impossible; I recognise that. But if you had seen his photograph----' 'Reggie, stop. I'll speak to you when we're alone. I have not your capacity for forgetting that we are brothers.' I turned to Fitz. 'The other day, sir, I presented you with the key of the street. Why are you here again?' Reggie answered. 'He came with me.' 'Allow the man to speak for himself. Why are you here?' Straightway Fitz began to fidget; and, also, to stammer. 'The plain truth is, sir, I mean, my lord, that the likeness is so striking that----' 'Well?' For Fitz had stopped. When he continued he went off at a tangent---- 'Of course I wasn't acquainted with what I've just now heard, or I should have known that your lordship couldn't possibly be the--the man I thought you were. But at the same time----' 'Well?' For Fitz had stopped again. 'The fact is, my lord, I've become liable for Mr. Babbacombe in certain directions, and his disappearance puts me in a hole.' 'Well?' 'He went home to his wife the other day----' 'His wife?' 'Yes, my lord, his wife; without saying where he had come from, or where he was going to, or without mentioning a word about the liabilities I had entered into on his behalf. So I--I--I----' Fitz stopped short in a stutterer's quagmire. I perceived that next time Mr. Merrett went home, Mr. FitzHoward's difficulties would have to be attended to. 'Well? Continue, sir, if you please.' 'My lord, after what has transpired all that remains for me to do is to apologise to your lordship for my intrusion, and to assure your lordship that it shan't occur again. So, begging your lordship's pardon, I wish you, my lord, good day.' Fitz withdrew. I wondered what would be his mental condition when he found himself in the street. I rang the bell, pointing, when a footman appeared, to Mr. Smith, who sat crumpled up on a chair, as if his backbone was broken. 'Throw that thing into the street.' As I had expected, Reggie interposed with an air of shocked surprise. 'Twickenham!' He moved towards his invertebrate friend. 'Come, Douglas, let me give you my arm.' I struck in.