'Don't you know me?' 'Know you?' He glanced at me, with lack-lustre eyes, in which was not the faintest gleam of recognition. 'Do you owe me money? If you've come to pay me I'll know you.' The voice was not right; he spoke with a faint American accent, which I had not previously noticed. But, in spite of its corpse-like pallor, the face was Twickenham's. 'Look at me well. Think.' 'I've quit thinking.' 'Twickenham!' He continued to stare. 'You are Twickenham?' 'I am. If there's money in it, you bet I am. Is it a place, or a thing? Sounds like a sort of password.' 'Leonard!' 'Am I him, too? I've been lots of people in my time, Lord knows. What's one more?' 'Why should you think it necessary to play this farce with me?' 'I'm asking. Excuse me, but are you----?' He touched his forehead with his forefinger. 'I am.' I am generally tolerably clear-headed. Never before had I been conscious of such mental confusion. It was a peculiar sensation. As he made that gesture with his forefinger it was all at once borne in on me that, after all, I had made a common or garden fool of myself, and that this was actually not the man. As I observed him, closely a dozen minute points of difference forced themselves upon my notice. I so clearly realised my own asininity that, for the instant, I was speechless. Then I stammered out-- 'You must excuse, sir, what probably appears to you my very singular behaviour, but, the fact is, you have the most amazing resemblance to a person with whom I was once very intimate.' 'Poor devil!' 'He was a poor devil.' 'You lay on it. If he was like me.' A shadow of doubt returned. 'May I ask you to be serious, sir, and tell me, on your word of honour, if you have ever seen me before?' 'I have. As a child. Many a time we've played together in my mother's backyard. Let me see, your name's---- Smith?--Ah.--Mine's Brown. I mean Babbacombe. It's all the same. See small bills.' I hesitated. On a sudden an idea came to me, as it were, on a flash of lightning. The language seems exaggerated, yet I doubt if any other would adequately portray the fact. It did come to me in a single illuminating second. Not in embryo, but wholly formed. I saw the whole thing in its entirety. There, on the instant, was the complete scheme ready to my hand. The suddenness of the thing unhinged me. I was not that night in the finest fettle. I scarcely saw how, then and there, to broach to him the subject. Attacked brusquely, it might be ruined. He was, probably, in worse condition even than myself; he might be affected even more disagreeably than I had been. Procrastination would probably be best, though in procrastination there was risk. Still--I saw no other way. I moistened my lips. They had all at once gone dry. 'Mr. Babbacombe, where can I see you, to-morrow, on a matter of importance?' 'What's the matter?' 'It is one which will probably result in my being able to place a considerable sum of money at your disposal.'