"Come, Denham," said Briarfield soothingly, "you are doubtless in some trouble, and have come to me for help and advice. I'll give both to the best of my ability." "I want neither," I muttered in a low voice; "but if you will answer some questions I wish to ask, you will oblige me greatly." Briarfield drew back with a queer look in his eyes, as if he thought my madness was increasing. However, he overcame the dread my actions apparently caused him, and answered civilly enough. "Certainly! If it will do you any good. What is it you wish to know?" "Were you in England within the last seven days?" "No! I have not been in England for at least six weeks." "Do you know the Fen Inn?" "Never heard of it in all my life." "Are you acquainted with a girl named Rose Strent?" "I don't even know her name." "When did your brother Francis return to England from South America?" "Three months ago." "Have you seen him since his return?" "Frequently in London, but he is now, I believe, at Marshminster." "Do you know he is engaged to Miss Bellin?" "Of course I do," said Briarfield; "the marriage takes place shortly, and I am to be the best man--that is, if I return in time." "What do you mean?" "Well, I'm going to Italy tomorrow," said the young man, shrugging his shoulders, "and it is just--possible that I may prolong my tour to the East. In that case I may be absent from England for at least six months or more. During that time Francis will doubtless marry Olivia, and I shall not be able to be at the wedding." "You have not been to England within the last six weeks, you don't know the Fen Inn, nor of the existence of Rose Strent," I summed up; "then I am the victim of some extraordinary hallucination." "You are very extraordinary altogether," retorted Briarfield. "Now I have answered your questions, pray answer mine. Why do you ask all these things?" "It is a strange story, and one which you will scarcely believe." "Let me hear it." Thus adjured, I told him the story of my adventure at the inn, but suppressed all mention of the belief I then entertained that the brothers had changed names. He listened attentively and eyed me with some concern. At the conclusion of the narrative he considered for a few moments before making any reply. "I hardly know what to say," he said at length. "Your story is very circumstantial, yet you must have been deceived by the chance resemblance." "I swear that the man I met at the Fen Inn was your brother Francis." "How can that be when Francis was at Bellin Hall, and Olivia said he had not been out of the house? Besides, you say the man whom you believed to be Francis was murdered, yet you left Francis alive and well at Marshminster." "I thought Francis was you." "Ah! Deceived by our resemblance, no doubt." "Yes! I think so," I replied, not wishing to tell him of my suspicions.