e Savoy were sufficient
for the moment, and as he sank into an easy chair and lit a cigarette,
even his interest in the stranger and what he had to say was for a
moment dimmed and diminished by the fumes that filled his brain, and the
ease that lapped his senses.

"What I have to say is this," said the stranger, leaning forward in his
chair. "When I saw you here some time ago, I recognised you at once as a
person I knew, but, as you put it, I could not place you. But when I got
into the main hall a mirror at once told me. You are, to put it frankly,
my twin image."

"I beg your pardon," said Jones, the word image shattering his
complacency. "Your twin which do you say?"

"Image, likeness, counterpart--I mean no offence--turn round and glance
at that mirror behind you."

Jones did, and saw the stranger, and the stranger was himself. Both men
belonged to a fairly common type, but the likeness went far beyond
that--they were identical. The same hair and colour of hair, the same
features, shape of head, ears and colour of eyes, the same serious
expression of countenance.

Absolute likeness between two human beings is almost as rare as
absolute likeness between two pebbles on a beach, yet it occurs, as in
the case of M. de Joinville and others well known and confirmed, and
when I say absolute likeness, I mean likeness so complete that a close
acquaintance cannot distinguish the difference between the duplicates.
When nature does a trick like this, she does it thoroughly, for it has
been noticed--but more especially in the case of twins--the likeness
includes the voice, or at least its timbre, the thyroid cartilage and
vocal chords following the mysterious law that rules the duplication.

Jones' voice and the voice of the stranger might have been the same as
far as pitch and timbre were concerned, the only difference was in the
accent, and that was slight.

"Well, I'm d-d-d--," said Jones.

He turned to the other and then back to the mirror.

"Extraordinary, isn't it?" said the other. "I don't know whether I ought
to apologise to you or you to me. My name is Rochester."

Jones turned from the mirror, the two champagne cocktails, the whisky
and the sherry were accommodating his unaccustomed brain to support this
most unaccustomed situation. The thing seemed to him radiantly humorous,
yet if he had known it there was very little humour in the matter.

"We must celebrate this," said Jones, calling an attendant and g