‘Miss Debenham—Maud Debenham,’ answered Roma. ‘Perhaps you know her?’
He shook his head.
‘No; but I think I know her brother. I knew a Mr. Debenham once—a Mr. Philip Debenham, who was travelling with his friend, a Mr.—Mr.— What was the name?’
‘Torwood,’ suggested Roma.
‘Ah yes—that was the name—Mr. Torwood. I met them in Rome and Naples once. I knew Mr. Debenham well, but his friend not much. That accounts for the likeness—I have been puzzling over that face as I sat here, wondering of whom it reminded me. I see it all now. It is like my friend Filippo. So his sister is a neighbour of yours, is she, Signorina? Then I may hear news of my friend.’
‘Yes, Maud is here certainly,’ answered Roma, in a half-puzzled way; ‘but she is not a bit like her brother—not in the very least. Philip Debenham is here too. He came into some property not long since, and has been here about six or eight weeks, I think, taking possession. You will be sure to see him, if you stay; but he must have changed very much since you knew him, for he is not at all like Maud now.’
Signor Pagliadini smiled with a kind of polite incredulity.
‘I do not think a man can change so much as you would represent in a few years; but then likenesses appeal so differently to different persons. What appears to one a very striking similarity, another will not even see. There, no doubt, lies the whole matter.’
‘Perhaps,’ answered Roma dubiously; ‘but I cannot think anyone would see any great likeness between Philip and Maud Debenham; for brother and sister, they are strikingly dissimilar—at least most people think so.’
‘Ah, well, I may be wrong; but I shall be delighted to renew my acquaintance with my good friend. Is Mr. Torwood with him still? They were constant companions in days of old.’