"I know, and I forgive you. But why do you wish to find my brother? He has been up to some rascality, I suppose?"
"He has, though what it is I know no more than a babe. But they do say," added Mrs. Benker, sinking her voice, "as the police want him."
"I'm not at all astonished. He has placed himself within the reach of the law a hundred times. If the police come to me, I'll tell them what I have told you. No one would be more pleased than I to see Walter laid by the heels."
"Is his name Walter?"
"Yes, Walter Franklin, although he chooses to call himself Wilson. My name is George. He is a blackguard."
"Oh, sir, your flesh and blood."
"He's no brother of mine," said Franklin, rising, with a snarl. "I hate the man. He had traded on his resemblance to me to get money and do all manner of scoundrelly actions. That was why I went to Italy. It seems that I did wisely, for if I could not prove that I have been abroad these ten years, you would swear that I was Walter."
"Oh, no, sir—really." Mrs. Benker rose also.
"Nonsense. You swore that I was Walter when we first met. Take a good look at me now, so that you may be sure that I am not he. I don't want to have his rascalities placed on my shoulders."
Mrs. Benker took a good look and sighed. "You're not him, but you're very like. May I ask if you are twins, sir?"