n
of our bear-shooting party in the Rocky Mountains had chanced to mention
that the fellow had very cleverly succeeded in making his escape from
the prison where he had been confined.

I had had no personal interest in the affair, and though it had made
considerable impression upon me at that time, through being called up at
the trial as a witness, I do not suppose I had summoned it to my
recollection for many a long day until now, at the mention of the Santa
Anna Hotel.

It was no wonder, I told myself, that I had not been able to decide
where and how I had seen Carson Wildred previous to the night when
Farnham had introduced us to each other at the theatre. Unless I could
collect proofs not at present in my possession, it would even now be
useless to instill my conviction into the mind of anyone else.

Carson Wildred had a peculiarly flat nose; Willis Collins had had a
particularly high one. Carson Wildred's hair was inky black; Willis
Collins's had been a bright auburn. Wildred's face was smooth; Collins's
mouth and chin had been concealed by a heavy though close-cropped red
beard. So far as I knew there was but one man living who could have
effected so radical a change, not only in the appearance, but in the
actual conformation of features, in the countenance of any human being,
and that was an old fellow in Paris, who had gained a reputation and a
fortune among men who had reason to cut loose from the moorings of their
past. I had met this famous (or infamous) person in a curious way, and
had heard some strange stories from his lips. If I had made his
acquaintance, why should not Collins or Wildred have done so and
profited by the friendship, as fortunately I had neither the desire nor
need to do? I determined that, unless my present researches were more
successful than I now dared expect them to be, I would, on my return to
the other side, run across to France, and endeavour to piece together
the bits of this old but newly-discovered puzzle.

Meanwhile, however, I had other work, and work closer at hand.

"While you've been talking, Mr. Bennett," said I, "I have been coming to
a conclusion."

He smiled. "I'm glad of that, sir," he returned. "I have risked
betraying Mr. Farnham's confidence that I may ask you what you think of
that last hint of his, which, to tell the truth, has troubled me very
much, coming, as it did, on top of so many queer actions. Although he
was, or pretended to be, half in joke, ought