But Dr. Wigan does not go into these niceties of this subject, and I
failed. It was then that, on my wife's suggestion, I resolved to look
out for a Double.
I was, at first, singularly successful. We happened to be recreating
at Stafford Springs that summer. We rode out one day, for one of the
relaxations of that watering-place, to the great Monsonpon House. We
were passing through one of the large halls, when my destiny was
fulfilled! I saw my man!
He was not shaven. He had on no spectacles. He was dressed in a green
baize roundabout and faded blue overalls, worn sadly at the knee. But
I saw at once that he was of my height, five feet four and a half. He
had black hair, worn off by his hat. So have and have not I. He
stooped in walking. So do I. His hands were large, and mine.
And--choicest gift of Fate in all--he had, not "a strawberry-mark on
his left arm," but a cut from a juvenile brickbat over his right eye,
slightly affecting the play of that eyebrow. Reader, so have I!--My
fate was sealed!
A word with Mr. Holley, one of the inspectors, settled the whole
thing. It proved that this Dennis Shea was a harmless, amiable fellow,
of the class known as shiftless, who had sealed his fate by marrying a
dumb wife, who was at that moment ironing in the laundry.
Pages:
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188