Amusement Only

"Good evening, Mister Buxton."

She slightly inclined her head-and was gone. Hubert stared after her dumfounded. When he did recover the faculty of speech he hardly knew what use to make of it.

"Well-I've done it! If she's Miss Danvers-who is 'Angel?' Cecil will thank me for the treat which I'm preparing for him. I knew this fatal likeness would dog me to the grave. Why was I born a twin?"

He strolled slowly toward the building. As he entered the hall a lady was coming along the corridor. At sight of him she quickened her pace. She advanced to him with outstretched hands. She was a lady of perhaps forty years of age.

"Cecil!" she cried.

But Hubert was not to be caught with salt. He had had enough, for the present, of Cecil and-of Cecil's feminine friends. Ignoring her outstretched hands, he slightly raised his hat.

"Pardon me, you have the advantage of me, Madame."

The lady seemed bewildered. She stared at him as if she could not believe her eyes and ears. The door through which Hubert had just entered from the grounds was re-opened at his back. A figure glided past him. It was the young girl from whom he had just parted-in not too cordial a manner. She went straight to the lady, slipping her arm through hers.

"Mamma, Mr. Buxton has declined to acknowledge my acquaintance as he declined to acknowledge yours. I think I can give you a sufficient reason for his doing so, if you will come with me, dear mother."

"Hetty!" murmured the elder woman, still plainly at a loss.

"Come!" said the girl. They went, leaving Hubert to stare.

"Well-I've gone one better! That's Mrs. Danvers, I presume. So I've contrived to insult the mother and the daughter too. Cecil will shower blessings on my head. Who can that Angel be?"

As he was about to follow the ladies along the corridor, someone touched him on the arm. Turning, he saw that a stranger in a black frock coat stood at his side.

"What were you saying to those ladies?" this person asked.

"What the deuce is that to do with you? And who the devil are you?"

"It has this to do with me, that I am the manager of this hotel, and that it is sufficiently obvious that your presence is objectionable to those ladies. Moreover, under existing circumstances, it is objectionable to me. It is a rule of this hotel that accounts are paid weekly. You have been here more than three weeks, and your first week's bill is yet unpaid. You have made sundry promises, but you have not kept them. I don't wish to have any unpleasantness with you, sir, but I regret that I am unable to accommodate you with a bed, in this hotel, to-night."

Hubert felt a trifle wild. He was capable of that feeling now and then. As they were advancing in one direction, two gentlemen, a tall and a short one, were advancing towards them in the other. They were coming to close quarters. Hubert was conscious that the manager's outspoken observations could not be altogether inaudible to the approaching strangers. So he rode as high a horse as he conveniently could.

"As for your bill, I will see it hanged first. As for your insolence, I will report it to your employers. As for myself, I shall only be too glad to go at once."

One of the approaching strangers-the tall one-suddenly standing still, placed himself in front of Hubert in such a way as to bar his progress. With the finger tips of his right hand he tapped him lightly on the chest.

"Not just at once, dear Buxton, not just at once. Not before you have said a few words to me."

"And to me," said the short man, who stood beside his taller companion. Hubert looked from one to the other.

"And pray who may you be?" he inquired.

"You do not know me?" asked the big stranger.

"Nor me?" echoed the little one.

"But it does not matter. Perhaps you have a bad memory, my dear Buxton."

The big man's manner was affable. He turned to the manager. "You must excuse us for one moment, we have just a word to say to our friend Buxton. Here is our little private sitting-room most convenient-just a word."

Before Hubert had altogether realised the situation, the big man had thrust his arm through his, and drawn him into a sitting-room which opened off the corridor from the left. When they were in, the big man locked the door-he not only locked the door, but in an ostentatious manner he pocketed the key.

CHAPTER III

THE UNFORTUNATE RESULT OF BEING A TWIN

"So, Mr. Buxton, you don't know me?"

"Nor me?"

The larger stranger stood against the door. The lesser one, who appeared to be acting as echo, leaned against a table. He began, with a slightly overacted air of carelessness, to roll a cigarette. There was something about this little man which Hubert did not like at all. He was a short, wiry individual, with long, straight black hair, hollow, sallow, shaven cheeks, high projecting cheek-bones, and a pair of small black eyes, which he had a trick of screwing up until only the pupils could be seen. His personal attractions were not enhanced by a huge mole which occupied a conspicuous place in the middle of his left cheek. But if he liked the appearance of the small man little, it was not because he liked the appearance of the tall man more. This was a great hulking fellow, with sandy whiskers and moustache, and a manner which, in spite of its greasy insinuation, Hubert felt was distinctly threatening.

"Is it really possible, Mr. Buxton, that I have had the misfortune to escape your memory?"

"And me?"

Hubert glanced from one to the other. That the little man was a foreigner, probably an Italian, he made up his mind at once. As to the nationality of the big man he was not so sure. He had had dealings with some strange people in his time, both at home and abroad. But he could not recollect encountering either of these gentlemen before.

"I do not remember having ever seen either of you."

"Oh, you do not remember?" The big man came a step nearer. "You do not remember that pleasant evening in that little room at Nice?"

"You do not remember slapping my face?" quickly exclaimed the little man, suddenly slapping his own right cheek with startling vigour.

"You do not remember accusing me of cheating you at cards?"

"You do not remember placing an insult on me! on me! on me?"

All at once, abandoning the process of manufacturing his cigarette, the little man came and placed himself in even uncomfortable proximity to Hubert's person. "My friend, my cheek is burning to this very hour."

Hubert did not like the look of things at all. He was sure he had never seen these men before.

"I understand the position exactly. You are doing what people constantly are doing-you are mistaking me for my brother."

"Mistaking you for your brother? I am mistaking you for your brother?"

"And me!" cried the little man, again saluting his own cheek smartly. "You liar!"

The big man's manner was insulting. Hubert felt he must resent it.

"How dare you-"

But the sentiment died down into his boots as the big man came at him with a sudden ferocity which seemed to cause the beating of his heart to cease.

"How dare I! You dare to speak a word to me. Liar! I will kill you where you stand."

"As for me," remarked the short man, affably, "I have this, and this." From one recess in his clothing he took a revolver. From another, a long, glittering, and business-like, if elegant, knife.