‘I cannot understand how it comes about that your charming sister and my old friend Filippo—who is, I hear, Mr. Torwood—are so strikingly alike. Even for brother and sister—which you say they are not—such a likeness would be remarkable.’
The Italian was staring hard at him, but Tor was on his guard, and his face betrayed nothing. He merely smiled a little.
‘Are you not rather imaginative, Signor?’
‘Not that I am aware of.’
‘Well, I don’t know. It seems so to me. I have not observed any striking likeness.’
Signor Pagliadini smiled a pleasant smile.
‘No, Signor; it is quite to be expected that you have not.’
‘What do you mean, sir?’
Tor liked neither the words nor the tone.
‘I mean that near relatives seldom see likenesses,’ he answered, with a reassuring smile. ‘It is strangers who do that, not intimates.’