Unrelated Twins: a novel

Front matter

Q (ttouef BY BELTON OTTERBURN AUTHOR OF 'HE WOULD BB AN OFFICER" AND ' JILTED ftonbon DIGBY, LONG & CO., PUBLISHERS 18 Bouverie Street, Fleet Street, E.C. €o MY FATHER THIB BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED. CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. ' BLESS ME, THEY MIGHT BE TWINS !' - 1 II. ' ARE YOU ANGRY WITH ME, JIM ?' - -23 III. THE TWINS TAKE HOLIDAY TOGETHER - 44 IV. AN UNFORTUNATE SLIP - - - 55 V. GRAVESTONE TO THE RESCUE - - 68 VI. IN PRISON - - - - - 84 VII. THE UNCLE - 101 VIII. A BIG TALK - - - - 119 IX. RECONCILED - - - - - 128 X. JIM IS CROSS-EXAMINED - - - 135 XI. A CLEVER DOCTOR - - - - 151 XII. MORE TROUBLES - l62 XIII. DRAWN BLANK - - - - 183 XIV. 'THE METAMORPHOSIS WAS COMPLETE' - 19§ XV. AN APPARITION - - - - CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE XVI. PADDINGTON STATION - 228 XVII. A TRUE AND GENUINE HISTORY - - 240 XVIII. A WOMAN'S PEACE OF MIND - 258 XIX. SOME LEAVES FROM A LADY'S DIARY - - 267 XX. THE GREAT LAWSUIT - 283 XXI. ' THE OLD SHE-DRAGON ' - - -

Chapter I

' BLESS ME, THEY MIGHT BE TWINS P ' Hulloa, Gravestone ! What were you doing with Smith this morning ? I thought you did not know him — at least, so you told me the other day.'' ' I — oh — this morning — with Smith ? I wasn't with Smith — or anyone else, worse luck — this morn ing, as I was all the time dancing attendance on that beast Parks in the surgery, confound him P And the speaker, by name Geoffrey Gravestone, flicked the ash off his cigar, and gave a kick out with his right foot, exactly as if even this passing allusion to ' that beast Parks ' made him wish to play a violent game of football. The two men were lounging about, idly watching a game of billiards in one of the rooms of a club, situated within twenty miles of Charing Cross, and which we will call by the name of the Cauliflower.

After a slight pause, it was the other man, Johnson, who continued : ' What ! you all the morning in the surgery with Parks ? Go and tell that to the Horse Marines ! Why, I'll take my dick I saw you and Smith to gether in Oxford Street about twelve o'clock, and you seemed pretty friendly towards each other, too.' ' What on earth are you talking about ? As I have told you ever so many times already, I was with that beast, and certainly never had any time to show my nose anywhere. And as to being with Smith, I don't know him, or any other of that ilk, except one fellow who is now miles away, trying to pick up a living in some outlandish Scotch wilderness or other, so you are quite out of it this time.1 ' Well, you need not get quite so excited over it ; if it was not you, why, it must have been your double.

I suppose we all have got one somewhere ; I know I have, as I have seen him, and precious ugly I thought him, too, I can tell you.' ' Without doubt,1 muttered Gravestone dryly. ' And I most certainly saw yours this morning.1 ' Oh, bosh ! It is all your nonsense,1 the latter was beginning, when the two were called away to join in a game of pool which was just then being made up at another table, so that nothing further was said on the subject. Whilst this game of pool is progressing, we will turn back and briefly review the history of Geoffrey Gravestone up to the time of the beginning of this ' BLESS ME, THEY MIGHT BE TWINS I1 3 story, when we find him as a medical student in a London hospital, which, for the sake of clearly show ing which one we refer to, we will call Red Cardinal. The Gravestones lived in one of the south eastern suburbs of London, from whence the father used to make his daily pilgrimages into the City, where he was a rather overworked and not too well-paid clerk in a large business house.

Mrs. Gravestone had died when Geoffrey was just about ten years old. As there were no other children, the father and son had continued to live alone together in the same place, both very busy, and both, in their different ways, engaged in a keen pursuit after the same goddess — Hard Cash ; the elder endeavouring by straining every nerve and working overtime to increase what he called his ' pittance of a salary,1 and the younger eagerly making the most of his opportunities to prepare himself for the same struggle when the time should come. At his own particular request, he was destined for the medical profession, in the preparation for which he had begun to make very fair progress when, some ten years later, his father died, and the young fellow found himself thrown on his own resources, with but a very small amount of money available either for educational purposes or his livelihood.

He was now quite alone in the world, not having a single relation living beyond a brother of his father's, who had gone to New Zealand many years before, but who was generally supposed to be dead, 1—2 nothing having been heard of him for a very con siderable time. In due course he had come to the hospital, where he still was at the time we first make his acquaintance, and where he expected to remain another couple of years or so. And now as to his appearance, about which there was nothing very remarkable, although he was usually called ' good-looking ' by his friends. Rather above middle height, with a sallow complexion and dark coloured hair, a stranger would certainly never have bestowed a second glance on him. Slightly built, too, with small features and only a small dark moustache, he was exactly the type of which scores may be seen any day in almost every fair-sized town in the kino-dom.

That was the sort of description which those who had never seen him before would most probably have given of him, while those who knew him more intimately would, also most probably, have added something about his dark eyes — rather shifty in their expression, it must be allowed — shaded by long eyelashes, and his more than rather objectionable cynical manners and expression. But the game of pool has come to an end ; over it Gravestone has managed to pocket a few shillings, quite according to his usual custom, for he is generally very lucky at all such games, and he is thinking about making tracks to his rooms, to which he has invited Johnson to come ' and have a smoke.1 Later on, when the two men found themselves comfortably seated before the fire — which was a fairly ' BLESS ME, THEY MIGHT BE TWINS I1 5 good one, for the weather was very cold for the time of year, the beginning of October — with their pipes in full swing, Johnson once more picked up the old idea of that supposed recognition in Oxford Street.

He seemed quite unable to believe that Gravestone was speaking the truth, and, being of rather a sus picious disposition, he had begun to think that possibly there might be a mystery underneath, and was therefore anxious to get to the bottom of the affair. He was not at all inclined to take his friends word against the evidence of his own eyes, but continued to hammer away on the same tack, perfectly oblivious of Gravestones repeated and most emphatic denials. At last, quite in despera tion, the latter suggested that ' that cad Smith ' had better be asked to name his companion, and in this way settle the matter. ' But perhaps you will not believe him any more than me ; but I'll tell you another test, and a much better one, too : ask old Parks.1 ' No, thank you,1 was Johnson's short but expressive answer, and after a pause he continued : ' Why, I should even prefer to believe you to that.1 Then they agreed that Smith was to be inter viewed, in order that Johnson might have his ' beastly curiosity ' satisfied, while at the same time Gravestone was very careful to inform his friend that he had not the very least intention of having anything to do with the affair. ' If you want to find out, you must do it yourself.

I won't have any share in it, or perhaps that cad will be saying I want to know him. As if I would ever know such a creature ! Why, from what you say, he is as poor as a church mouse !' From this remark, it will easily be gathered that Gravestone had a deep-rooted objection to poor men. In spite of his friend's doubts on the matter, he was only speaking the truth — a thing, however, that he did not always do — when he said what his occupa tion had been that particular morning ; indeed, he had not been in Oxford Street at all that day. Johnson must have been a very curious person, for he actually took the trouble to get up an hour or so earlier the next morning, and hurry over his breakfast, in order to go out in the cold and wet some time befoie he need have done, just to make a special call on Smith.

The latter seemed quite pleased and flattered to see him, apparently never dreaming for a moment that he himself was not the centre of attraction. No ; Johnson would not go in for a second breakfast, having, so he said, only just finished an unusually large one ; but after a little pressing he was at last persuaded to accept — very reluctantly, of course — a pretty stiff glass of hot brandy-and-water, accompanied by a pipeful of very strong tobacco — ' Just to keep the wet out,' as Smith put it. The latter was more than readv to tell his visitor any and every thing ; indeed, it was of his own accord that he began to talk about the new man with whom he had spent a good part of the preceding day. ' BLESS ME, THEY MIGHT BE TWINS P 7 ' His name ? Oh, his name is Pollard — James William Pollard ; such a nice fellow, too, and so rich P And then, without any more ado, he launched out into a most graphic recital of the man's history, which he said he had heard yesterday.

How the man was an orphan, and how he had been under a guardian until he came of age, and how this guardian had just died. And then he went off at a tangent about his money ; according to Smith's account, even Rothschild would not have had a chance with him in this respect, his wealth being enormous. Although Johnson was fairly interested when the subject of money was mentioned, he certainly did not care for all these details of family history ; the man's appearance, and also whether he had been with Smith in Oxford Street the day before, being far more important topics to him just then. Oh yes, certainly, they had been in Oxford Street yester day morning. ' You see, Pollard wanted to get a hat or two, and I told him to go to ' ' Bother ! as if I wanted to hear about that,1 was Johnson's rude interruption. ' What's his age — what's he like — and is he a gentleman P1 Before, however, Smith could get out a word in answer to this imperative demand, Johnson had begun again. ' But weren't you there with Gravestone ?

I know you were, however, as I saw you myself.1 ' No, I think not. I do not even know who Gravestone is. Who is he ? is he one of us P1 ' I wonder if you are speaking the truth or not,1 was Johnsons rejoinder, ' or if you two are trying to trick me. That's exactly what he said ; he said he was not there, and did not know that — I mean you.1 ' I do not know anything about that ; all I do know is that I — or, rather, we — were only there a very short time, for we only went to one shop, which was 1 ' Yes, all right ; cut it short ! And after that — where P1 ' As I was saying,1 Smith continued in his rather slow and methodical way, ' Pollard wanted a couple of hats, so I took him round to my man, you understand P1 ' No, but I don't.1 ' As I was just going to remark when you inter rupted me, Pollard, being a country fellow — hardly ever been in London before, at least, so he tells me, and comes from Cornwall — did not know where to go, and so I 1 ' Quite so ! — exactly !

I perfectly understand. Now tell me, what's his age P1 ' About two or three and twenty, I should say ; but I cannot tell for certain, as I did 1 ' Yes, of course, quite true ; I perfectly under stand. Accuracy cannot be expected under such conditions. But to proceed to the next point : is he a gentleman ?1 ' BLESS ME, THEY MIGHT BE TWINS I1 9 ' Certainly, if I may be allowed to form an opinion ' — ' A most competent judge, I should say,1 muttered Johnson to himself, being well aware of the fact that the other's father was a large whole sale boot and shoe manufacturer in the Midlands, who had, in addition to this, committed the extra offence of going bankrupt a few years previously — ' there can be no possible doubt on that point — none whatever.' ' So far, so good. Now let us have a minute description of his personal appearance.

Is he dark or fair ? Proceed.1 Smith certainly followed out these directions to the letter, for he at once commenced a most ex haustive report. When he had finished, the other exclaimed : 'Why, you might have been describing Grave stone ! It is curious, two men so exactly alike being at the same hospital together.1 ' As I think I have said before, I do not know your friend ; but now that you mention it, I feel fairly certain I have seen a man very like that description about the place. All the same, I think I have given you a very fair portrayal of Pollard.1 ' Long dark eyelashes, you say, and rather peculiar looking eyes P1 ' Yes.1 ' Well, that certainly does beat cock-fighting I1 And then Johnson burst out into eager inquiries as to how this Pollard could be interviewed, and where he was to be found.

Smith seemed a good deal amused at his visitor's excitement, but being a good-natured fellow, he was quite willing to render all possible assistance in the matter. After a few moments1 thought, he proposed that Johnson should turn up again at his rooms that evening, and that he (Smith) would engage to have this double of Gravestone's then ready for inspection. Matters being thus arranged, shortly after this Johnson took his leave, and as he came rushing out into the street he nearly fell head-foremost into the arms of Gravestone, who, wonderful it seemed to Johnson, was evidently intending to enter the very same house from which he had himself only just come out. Then it was very funny, too, the way in which he said, ' I beg your pardon,' exactly as anyone might have done to a complete stranger, and not at all in his usual style, which latter could only be described as 'calmly impudent.1 And, more wonderful still, he was going to enter the house without saying another word.

But Johnson had no intention of being ignored in that way, so he called out : ' Well, my fine pigeon, where away in such a blooming hurry? Don't pretend you did not see me ; that won't wash P By this time Gravestone had got inside the house, and was preparing to mount the stairs, still without saying a word, or even looking back. So, seeing that some more forcible means would be necessary to make him stop, Johnson, without anv more ado, ran ' BLESS ME, THEY MIGHT BE TWINS P 11 quickly up behind him, and bestowed a none-too gentle blow with his closed fist on the shoulder of the retreating figure. This mode of proceeding certainly had the desired effect, namely, of making that personage come to an abrupt stoppage, for he at once turned round and began a speech which was far from complimentary to Johnson.

Then it was that the latter first began to have some glimmerings of a doubt as to whether, after all, this was Gravestone, or whether it was not someone else ; the idea that it was Pollard never entered his head. It was the clothes which more than anything else inclined him to this idea. Certainly he had never seen that great-coat before, and he always had had the idea that Gravestone objected to those 'bluey1 trousers; and yet it cer tainly was Gravestone standing before him. All this passed through his mind like a flash of lightning, far quicker than it is possible to write it down, or even to read it. Partly to stop the other's complaining, and partly to solve this new-born doubt? Johnson commenced to chaff, taking care to bring in his friends name several times. ' But I think you are making a mistake ; my name is not Gravestone ; it is ' 'Pollard.

Yes, I know now. How stupid of me not to think of that before ! I am very son-y to have been so awfully rude, but I really mistook you for a chum of mine — Gravestone of Red Cardinal. But, by Jove ! you are as like as two peas.1 ' Oh, certainly, that explains it all, although I am sorry for your friends if that is the way you usually greet them. But how on earth did you find out my name, as this is my first term at the hospital, and I donH remember ever having seen you before T The new-comer appeared much interested when he heard the brief and not very lucid explanation given by Johnson, and delighted to hear of the entertain ment in store for him that evening. A little later, as Gravestone was seated comfortably at breakfast with the paper, out of which he was picking up bits of news in the intervals between the ingulfing of huge mouthfuls of fried eggs and bacon, propped up in front of him, a loud banging began on the outside of the sitting-room door.

Before he could holloa out an invitation to come in, his visitor, with a final crash, burst into the room. This proved to be Johnson, brimful of importance, and evidently bursting with news. ' Old man, I am glad to find that you are not such a big liar as I took you for. With the deepest humility I beg your pardon for having made the mistake ; but you must allow I had some excuse.1 ' Oh, certainly ; pray don't trouble to mention it ; all the same, I should feel very much obliged if you would kindly remember that I am not quite so up-to-date as I ought to be in the matter you are talking about. Here, sit down — the baccy's on that table by you — and explain how you have found 'BLESS ME, THEY MIGHT BE TWINS!' 13 out that I am not a liar, or, more accurately, not such a big one as you thought.1 When the story, with several embellishments out of Johnson's fertile brain, had been told, another meeting was settled on, to take place in that very room.

The company was to be very small — only themselves, ' that cad Smith,1 and the double. ' We shall be able to have a game of whist to start with, just to give them confidence; right number for that. Besides, I do hate having people looking on over one's shoulder — don't you P1 And Johnson agreed that he did. When the two men met, the likeness between them was cer tainly very wonderful. ' Bless me, they might be twins !1 said Smith. ' Let them change clothes, or do something like that, and I don't mind betting a fiver that you won't be able to tell which is which,' was Johnson's remark. Later on in the evening this idea was put to a practical test, when, in quite half the number of trials, the result was ' a case of mistaken identity.1 It certainly was very awkward having two men so very much alike in the same hospital, both for the authorities as well as for Pollard.

Gravestone did not seem to mind it at all. Then it also appeared to cause a lot of trouble to some of the tradesmen with whom these two doubles were in the habit of dealing, making them send in Pollard's bill to Gravestone, and vice-versa. And as this happened on more than one occasion, as well as from different shops, it showed how wonderfully alike the two young men were in appearance. Then, again, Pollard found himself charged with a lot of things he had never had, and which were never accounted for, but which the shopman would declare had been ordered by Pollard himself in person, and that as he (the shopman) had personally received the order, there could be no possible doubt about the matter. Then Pollard would get very much annoyed, his perpetual shadow Gravestone — the onlookers had been much astonished at the way in which the cynical elder student had taken up the newcomer, the unkind ones amongst them declaring that the wealth of the latter was the magnet, and not his person — would smile, and the former would not only have to pay, but also to endure an hour or so of chaff over his clumsy and, as his friends would tell him, now rather stale attempt at shoplifting.

These mistakes did not only occur in shopping matters, for they also happened in other things. It became quite a common occurrence for their mutual friends to address the one by the name of the other. These contretemps became the more frequent as the two young men had adopted a very similar style of dress ; or perhaps it would be more correct to say that Gravestone had again been the one to make this move. He it was who had first made a few small alterations in his own costume, and afterwards had persuaded Pollard to do the same. ' BLESS ME, THEY MIGHT BE TWINS P 15 ' Just for fun, you know ; as we are so very much alike, exactly like twins, we may as well keep up the deception. It may come in useful some day, too ; when you, Pollard, commit a murder, why, you will always be able to prove an alibi, only mind you don't kill me first by mistake.' Pollard did as he was asked, but, all the same, he did not like it ; at one time he had almost made up his mind to leave the hospital and go elsewhere to study, if not to give up all idea of continuing the practice of medicine, so tired was he getting of the continual mistakes that were taking place about the two.

When Gravestone came to hear of this, he gave neither himself nor his friend any peace until he had got the latter to give up all idea of doing ' any such nonsense.1 The winter, which had been unusually severe, was now over, and spring, in its mildest and most alluring form, had come. ' We must have an outing soon ; been too hard at work lately — feel softening of the brain coming on myself; suppose you fellows feel it, too, don^t you? Any way, whether you do or not, less have a holiday, and go — where ? Oh, anywhere you like ; say up the river.1 This proposition was made by Johnson to Gravestone and Pollard, one evening in the early part of April, when the three were seated in the latters room, indulging in a final pipe before separating for the night. ' Well, that's a good job we're all agreed ; where shall we go P1 ' Oh, either to the everlasting Putney or Mortlake, or anywhere you like,1 was Gravestones answer ; and so the matter was settled, the following Wednesday being fixed on as the day for the great event, as well as a fairly early start being talked about.

Gravestone had by this time established it as a rule that he should honour his double, Pollard, with a daily visitation, directly after breakfast whenever that was possible. For some time the latter was at a total loss to understand what could be his friend's object in hardly ever failing to come at this parti cular time ; but at last he felt certain that he had found the clue. One day it suddenly struck him as peculiar that his visitor's greeting should always consist of a query. Yet so it was ; and, what was more so still, that this query had always something to do with his (Pollard's) correspondence. Then he remembered, too, that most of his letters came by the early morning post. After this he began to put two and two together, and to wonder if there was any connection between the two facts.

To solve this interesting problem he set himself to watch, besides laying small traps for his friend, with the result that he came to the conclusion that his surmises were correct, and that there was some connection. When the day for their expedition came round, Pollard was wishing more than ever — he had never been very ' keen ' on it from the first — that he had refused to go, and could stop at home, the post ' BLESS ME, THEY MIGHT BE TWINS !' 17 having brought him quite an unusual number of most interesting letters and papers. The party had agreed to start about ten o'clock, and by rights he ought to have finished breakfast a good time before, and be pushing on his preparations for departure. Instead of which, however, when the clock struck ten he was still seated at the breakfast -table, reading away at his letters, and without having even made a pretence of beginning his meal.

His rooms had been fixed upon as the place of meeting, and if he had been attending to sublunary affairs he would have heard that somebody had entered the house and was running quickly upstairs. But he was far too busily engaged in gazing at a photograph, which he held in one hand while the other grasped a couple of sheets of closely-written paper, to hear that, or the loud knocking at the sitting-room door which followed. Not even Grave stone's certainly none-too-quiet entrance into the room roused him in any way ; indeed, it was not until the latter had given him a gentle rap on the head that he became aware that he was not alone. The start he gave on receiving this delicate and unlooked-for attention was comical in the extreme, as was also his frantic but perfectly useless endeavour to prevent the photograph being seen by his visitor. ' What have we here — the personation of a young and fair damsel ?

Oh fie, you naughty boy I1 It was no use fighting against fate any longer ; he had been caught tripping at last. It was bad luck, for he had tried so hard to keep this secret away from Gravestone, and never to let out any hint as to the existence of a 'she,1 and he hud failed ; while, to crown all, the latter wus demanding ' a squint at that 'ere picter.1 Johnson was late — just the very thing that might have been expected of him ; but, all the same, Pollard was now hoping against hope that for once he would be in time ; his immediate advent might prevent, or at least delay, the exposure of this secret. But no Johnson appeared, and Gravestone being determined to carrv his point, and to know all about ' that 'ere picter,1 the unfortunate Pollard had to hand up his treasure for inspection, as well as ' explain all about it.1 When he had stumbled through his story, the other cut in with, ' Well, I don't see much for you to get so excited over, or why you need have kept all that a secret so long ; neither do I see why you need look so very like a turkey-cock or a boiled lobster, and splutter till nobody can understand you !' The photograph, of which Gravestone had now got possession, represented a pretty, fair-haired girl, of some nineteen or twenty years of age, daintily dressed, and evidently a lady.

She was a Miss Stans field — Ethel Stansfield — the daughter and sole heiress of a lawyer, who had died a few years before, leaving her the whole of his very considerable fortune. She was then living at St. Ives, in Corn wall, with her aunt — a maiden lady of uncertain ' BLESS ME, THEY MIGHT BE TWINS !' 19 age — in a small but well-appointed house which belonged to them. But the unfortunate Pollard was not allowed by his stern inquisitor to stop at this point, and let the active imagination of the latter supply the remaining links of the story for himself; nothing would serve but that the whole truth must be laid bare in plain black and white. How he had known Miss Stansfield for years, and how he had always been, from the earliest days of their acquaintanceship, in love with her ; and how, finally, when one day in a fit of desperation he had declared his passion, he had found to his great delight — which at the same time was largely mixed with astonishment, so doubtful had he been of the result — that she also cared for him, and they had become engaged.