red
Scudamour, and I probably frowned, for I myself was my own brother
Henry. I distinctly recalled Scudamour meeting Alexander and me in
Paris, and calling me Henry, though my name begins with a J. I
explained the mistake to Pettigrew, and here, for the time being, the
matter rested. However, I had by no means heard the last of Henry.

Several times afterward I heard from various persons that Scudamour
wanted to meet me because he knew my brother Henry. At last we did
meet, in Jimmy's chambers; and, almost as soon as he saw me, Scudamour
asked where Henry was now. This was precisely what I feared. I am a
man who always looks like a boy. There are few persons of my age in
London who retain their boyish appearance as long as I have done;
indeed, this is the curse of my life. Though I am approaching the age
of thirty, I pass for twenty; and I have observed old gentlemen frown
at my precocity when I said a good thing or helped myself to a second
glass of wine. There was, therefore, nothing surprising in Scudamour's
remark, that, when he had the pleasure of meeting Henry, Henry must
have been about the age that I had now reached. All would have been
well had I explained the real state of affairs to this annoying man;
but, unfortunately for myself, I loathe entering upon explanations to
anybody about anything. This it is to smoke the Arcadia. When I ring
for a time-table and William John brings coals instead, I accept the
coals as a substitute.

Much, then, did I dread a discussion with Scudamour, his surprise when
he heard that I was Henry, and his comments on my youthful appearance.
Besides, I was smoking the best of all mixtures. There was no
likelihood of my meeting Scudamour again, so the easiest way to get rid
of him seemed to be to humor him. I therefore told him that Henry was
in India, married, and doing well. "Remember me to Henry when you
write to him," was Scudamour's last remark to me that evening.

A few weeks later some one tapped me on the shoulder in Oxford Street.
It was Scudamour. "Heard from Henry?" he asked. I said I had heard by
the last mail. "Anything particular in the letter?" I felt it would
not do to say that there was nothing particular in a letter which had
come all the way from India, so I hinted that Henry was having trouble
with his wife. By this I meant that her health was bad; but he took it
up in another way, and I did not set him right. "Ah, ah!" he said,
shaking hi