For a new diversion had occurred. Was there to be no end to the events
of that day? A party of burghers were riding up, but--Great Heaven!
what was this? What did it mean? Who was that in their midst? Colvin
Kershaw? Yet, there stood Colvin Kershaw. But--here he was too! Not a
face in that crowd but was agape with wild amaze. What on earth did it
mean? Was this man the devil in disguise, they asked, that he could be
present in two bodies at the same time? Even the stolid philosophical
Dutch nature was stirred to the core, as in breathless excitement the
burghers awaited the explanation of the new arrivals with this exact
replica of Colvin Kershaw in their midst.

The latter had dismounted with the rest, and, pulling out his pipe,
began to fill it. Those looking on could not fail to note that in
manner, in every movement, the resemblance between the two men was
faultless. He, for his part, not yet having descried his duplicate, was
lazily wondering what the deuce all these Dutchmen were looking so
scared about.

Aletta, from where she stood, could see the stranger, and a perfect maze
of bewilderment flitted across her countenance as she gazed at him.
Then a sudden light leaped into her eyes.

"Colvin," she murmured. "Is that your twin brother?"

"N-no. I have a half-brother somewhere in the world, last heard of in
Vancouver. I haven't seen him for years, but he wasn't like me then.
But brother or not, Aletta, I have an idea we have run my `double' to
earth at last."

"I think so too--darling," she whispered.

The stranger's glance had now swept round to where they stood. He gave
a start and a whistle of surprise; then approached them.

"I believe I must have struck the real Colvin at last," he began,
without ceremony. Here, again, standing together as they were, the
height, the features, even the voices of the two men, were inimitably
alike. Yet Aletta, with the eyes of love, and hearing sharpened by its
spell, could detect a difference. Nobody else could, however.

"Yes, that is my name," replied Colvin. "But--you are not Kenneth,
surely?"

"I am, though. Look here," fishing out two or three directed envelopes.
"But--I'm rather glad to run into you at last. People are always
hailing me as `Colvin,' and abusing me for not wanting to know them
again--you know--when I tell them I'm somebody else. It's becoming a
bore."

"Well, Kenneth. I'm glad to see you, too, after all these years.