Mr. Gayer met me in the hall. 'A gentleman, my lord, wishes to see you.' He spoke in a half-whisper, as if he was afraid of being overheard. There was something in his face I didn't understand.

'A gentleman? What gentleman?' Gayer came closer.

'Mr. Acrodato. We told him your lordship wasn't at home, and tried to keep him out, but he made so much disturbance we thought we'd better let him in. He's been walking all over the house, and behaving very badly.'

As Gayer imparted his information, with an air half of deprecation, half of mystery, there came through the dining-room door a gentleman. He was big. His huge beard and mop of hair were tinged with grey; his top hat was on the back of his head; his hands were in the pockets of his unbuttoned overcoat. He surveyed me with a look which did not suggest respect, speaking in accents which were not exactly gentle.

'So you've come.--Well?'

A feeling of resentment had been growing up within me with every yard which I had been placing between Mary and myself. I had been telling myself that this Marquis of Twickenham game was hardly worth the candle, and that if I had to choose between Mary and the marquisate, the dignity might go hang. Only let his lordship withdraw from his banking account thirty or forty thousand pounds in cash, and it was not improbable that he might disappear for another fifteen years. In which case Mr. and Mrs. James Merrett would take a trip abroad.

This loud-voiced, blustering bully had caught me in a dangerous mood. What he might want with the Marquis of Twickenham I had no notion. But the contrast he presented to the sweet saint in Little Olive Street offered me just the opportunity I needed to take it out of some one. I walked past him into the dining-room. He followed, leaving the door wide open.

'Have the goodness to shut the door.'

His response was the soul of courtesy.

'Shut it yourself! I'm not your servant.'

Directly he said that, I remembered where I had seen him last, and the name by which he had been known to me; the recollection gave me the most genuine sensation of pleasure. The Marquis of Twickenham should be avenged.

'Mr. Fraser, shut that door!'

When I called him by that name he started.

'Who are you speaking to?'

'To Andrew Fraser--who lately carried on one of the branches of his usurer's business at 14 Colmore Road, Birmingham. I have a statement referring to you, which was made to me by Isabel Kingham, also of Birmingham, half an hour before she died. That statement will supply the police with some information they are very anxious to receive. If you would like me to provide any one who may be listening outside with spicy details of your connection with the lady, I am willing.'

It's not often you are able to bag a man with the first barrel, especially a man of the type who was then in front of me. But when you do succeed, the sensation is delicious, as I experienced on that occasion.

That he had come to crush the Marquis of Twickenham was obvious; having good reasons for believing that that fortunate peer was his to crush. That he was the kind of individual who enjoyed crushing any one or anything was as plain as the fact that he was likely to resent with the utmost bitterness any attempt which might be made at crushing him. Nothing, probably, had been further from his mind than the idea that his intended victim would essay so hazardous a feat. He thought, possibly, knowing his man, that all he had to anticipate was his more or less abject humiliation. That first shot of mine was not only unexpected, but hitting him even before he was fairly on the wing, it bowled him completely over. The look of amazement which was on his hirsute countenance was distinctly comical. He shut the door with almost acrobatic rapidity.

'What the devil are you talking about?'

'So Andrew Fraser and Morris Acrodato are the same persons. With what gratification the press, the public, and the police will receive the news. We all know that Morris Acrodato carries on his business of blood-sucking under various aliases, but it is not generally known that Andrew Fraser is one of them. Every hand is against the most extortionate usurer in England, and at last one of them--the hangman's hand--will get it right home.'

He was so used to bully others, that the idea of being effectually bullied himself was beyond his comprehension.

'Don't--don't you try to bluff me.'

'Not at all. On the contrary, Mr. Fraser, I propose to have you hanged.'

He glanced round the room as if he feared that the walls had ears.

'What nonsense are you talking?'

'Nothing will give me greater pleasure. I once had an acquaintance who called herself Isabel Kingham. She died in great agony. At the inquest the medical examination showed that the immediate cause of death had been the administration of certain illegal drugs; but by whom they had been administered it was admitted, in the Coroner's Court, that there was not sufficient evidence to show. More than sufficient evidence is, however, in my possession that they were administered by Mr. Andrew Fraser.'

'It's all a lie.'

'At that time I had not sufficient leisure to justify me in seeing the business through. Although there was no moral doubt as to the person from whom the medicine came, you had so managed affairs as to leave me without actual proof. It is only within the last few weeks that I have had the pleasure of meeting a gentleman named Matthew Parker.'

'When did you see him?'

'It appears that Mr. Parker was once a clerk in the employ of Mr. Andrew Fraser. He distinctly remembers being instructed by his master to purchase a bottle of a certain mixture, and to forward it to a certain lady.'

'I'll wring his neck.'

'The missing link in the chain of evidence being thus supplied, I still had to learn what had become of Mr. Fraser. Now that I have had the pleasure of this fortunate encounter all that remains is to place the entire matter in the hands of the police.'

As I observed the looks with which Mr. Acrodato favoured me, I was conscious that he was struck, as others had been, by some development in the Marquis of Twickenham's character which he found himself unable to explain. And I realised, not for the first time, that there were, as was after all only inevitable, marked points of difference between the Two Dromios. His conduct was evidently actuated by reminiscences of what his lordship used to be, and he endeavoured to buoy himself up by the pleasant delusion that any alteration which might have taken place in an inconvenient direction could only be superficial after all.

'Look here, my lord. You bolted fifteen years ago because you'd got twenty-five thousand pounds out of me by forging your father's signature. And it seems that you've only come back now because you hope to beat me again by chucking this cock and bull story in my face. Don't you make any mistake. I'm going to have my money--with interest; proper interest, mind; and no silly nonsense--or I'll have you!'

So that was how I came to meet my double in San Francisco. He had made a little mistake with a pen. Well, his lordship might esteem himself lucky that at least that piece of business had fallen into my hands. I would do him a service right away.

'I have one remark to make, Mr. Fraser----'

'My name's Acrodato. Don't you call me out of my name!'

He positively shouted. I, also, can raise my voice. It was undignified, but I shouted back again.

'I say that I have one remark to make, Mr. Fraser!'

He gave a startled look round; he didn't seem to relish the notion that I might be audible on the other side of the square.

'Don't speak so loud.'

'I make it a rule to reply in the tone in which I am addressed; the pitch, therefore, depends on you. I was about to observe, when you interrupted me, that I have only one remark to make, Mr. Fraser, with reference to the matter on which you have touched. You have been completely misinformed with regard to the authenticity of the signature which is attached to the document in question.'

'Well! You always were a bit of a liar, but that takes the biscuit! Do you mean to say your father's name on that bill isn't a forgery?'

'I do.'

'When you ran for it because he said it was?'

'I had no wish to create a scandal by impugning my father's veracity.'

'You used to have a face before you went; but I never saw anything like the one you seem to have come back with. I don't want to be hard on you, although you treated me so bad. You've got the money now, and I'm willing to let bygones be bygones. Hand over my capital and decent interest and I'll say no more about it.'

'I don't intend to give you a penny.'

'What's that you say?'

'I intend to hang you--unless a spirit of mollycoddleism commutes the sentence to one of penal servitude for life. Look here, my lad. Lord or no lord, don't you take me for a fool. If you don't satisfy me inside five minutes I'll have a warrant for you in an hour.' I rang the bell.

'What's that for?'

A servant came.

'Fetch a constable at once.'

Mr. Acrodato seemed unhappy.

'Don't you--don't you be a fool!'

He turned to the man at the door.

'Don't you do anything of the kind.'

'You heard what I said?'

The servant was withdrawing when Mr. Acrodato became excited.

'Stop! Look here, my lord, don't you do anything in a hurry. You first of all listen to me!'

'See that some one is ready to fetch a constable the moment I ring; two of you remain within call.'

The man withdrew. Mr. Acrodato evidently did not relish my parting injunction.

'We don't want to have any confounded servants listening to what we have to say.'

'Corroboration, Mr. Fraser----'

'Don't call me out of my name.'

'Corroboration, Mr. Fraser, is sometimes useful--you will have to be quick if you wish to say anything before I ring the bell.'

'Look here. Of course I know you're only bluffing me, but I don't wish to make myself disagreeable. You give me those papers you've been talking about and my capital, and five per cent, interest, and you shall have the bill.'

'Mr. Fraser----'

'I wish you wouldn't call me by that name. What's the good of it?'

'I'll tell you what I might be persuaded to do. You give me that bill, and your word of honour that you will contradict any libellous stories you may hear reflecting on the genuineness of my father's signature, and so long as you refrain your own tongue from indiscretion I may keep still.'

'And I'm to lose my money?'

'And save your life.'

'Don't talk silly nonsense. I'm not going to let you rob me with my eyes open. Now I'll tell you what I'll do. You give me thirty thousand pounds.'

'Mr. Fraser, if you don't hand over that bill in sixty seconds I ring the bell. If I ring again, you pass into the hands of the police and the law must take its course.'

'Give you the bill? You don't suppose I've got it on me?'

I stood with my watch in hand. 'Fifteen seconds.'

'My lord, you've had my money--you can't deny you've had my money! And you've had it all these years! A great gentleman like you don't want to rob a man like me!

'Thirty seconds.'

'My lord, listen to reason! I'm a poor man! I really am! I've had the most frightful losses! I've had to do with a lot of thieves!'

'Forty-five seconds.'

'Have mercy, my lord, have mercy! Make it half the money! Say ten thousand! Call it five! You don't want to leave me without a penny, my lord!'

'Sixty seconds. What they call the Birmingham Mystery will now be solved.'

'My lord, don't ring that bell.'

He caught me by the arm.

'Remove your arm.'

'You shall have the bill.'

'Give it me.'

He began to fumble with a pocket-book. 'My lord, I do ask you to listen to reason! I'm sure you don't want----'

'If you say another word I ring.'

He handed me a slip of blue paper. It was a bill, dated some sixteen years back, promising to pay thirty thousand pounds three months after date. It was signed 'Sherrington.' An endorsement was scrawled across it--'Twickenham.' That endorsement was the little accident which had sent my double to San Francisco.

When I had gathered the purport of the document I looked at Mr. Acrodato. Murder was in his eyes.

'What are you going to give me for it?'

'Your life.'

'You cursed thief?'

I didn't like the words, nor the way in which he said them. There are occasions on which the devil enters into me. That was one.

I was a much smaller man than he, but I have physical strength altogether beyond what the average stranger suspects, and a curious mastery of what we will call certain tricks.

On a sudden I took him by the throat, beneath his beard, and with a twist which I have reason to know almost broke his neck, I jerked him back upon a chair. Driving his head against the back of it, I all but choked the life right out of him. It was only when I felt it slipping through my fingers that I thought it time to stop.

'Mr. Fraser, I'm afraid that one day I shall have to kill you. I've a mind to do it now; only it would be difficult to explain your corpse.'

I never saw a man cut a more ludicrous figure. The pain he had had to bear was no small thing. I shouldn't be surprised if for days his neck was conscious of the twist I had given it. But his amazement eclipsed his suffering. Not until that moment had he realised what a change had taken place in his lordship's character, and in his lordship's methods. For some seconds he gasped for breath--as was only natural. When he shambled to his feet he shrank from me like some panic-stricken, half-witted fool. While he was still staring at me, as if I had been some uncanny thing, the door opened and Mr. Smith came in.

'Surely it is Douglas Howarth! My dear Douglas, I am very glad to see you. This is Mr. Acrodato. He tells me that some injurious reports have been current with reference to a bill which my father backed at my request. Here is the bill. He has undertaken, in future, to give any such reports which may reach his ears the fullest contradiction. Mr. Acrodato, you may go.'

He went--and, I believe, was glad to go, even though he left both his bill and his money behind him.