No action, whether foul or fair,
Is ever done, but it leaves somewhere
A record. —Longfellow.
"SO there are two of us! I thought as much when I first set eyes upon your face in Buffalo!"
This exclamation, uttered in a dry and musing tone, woke Mr. Byrd from the stupor into which this astonishing discovery had thrown him. Advancing upon the stranger, who in size, shape, and coloring was almost the fac-simile of the person he had so successfully represented, Mr. Byrd looked him scrutinizingly over.
The man bore the ordeal with equanimity; he even smiled.
"You don't recognize me, I see."
Mr. Byrd at once recoiled.
"Ah!" cried he, "you are that Jack-in-the-box, Brown!"
"Alias Frank Hickory, at your service."
This name, so unexpected, called up a flush of mingled surprise and indignation to Mr. Byrd's cheek.