After which question and answer I was shown into a room. Observe that I said "Mr. Briarfield," and the footman answered "Mr. Francis Briarfield." Now, as I well knew that the man bearing that name was lying dead at the Fen Inn, it was conclusive proof that Felix, to gain the hand of Olivia, was masquerading as his brother. I had just argued this out to my complete satisfaction when Felix made his appearance.
The resemblance between the brothers was extraordinary. I had some difficulty in persuading myself that the man before me was not he whom I had seen dead that morning. The same pale face, dark hair, and jaunty mustache, the same gestures, the same gravity of demeanor, and actually the same tones in the voice. There was not the slightest difference between Felix and Francis; the one duplicated the other. I no longer wondered that Olivia was deceived. Despite my acquaintance with the brothers, I should have been tricked myself. As it was I stared open-mouthed at the young man.
"This is a pleasant surprise, Denham," he said, looking anxiously at me. "I did not know you were in this part of the world."
"Nor was I until yesterday. I am on a walking tour, and last night slept at the Fen Inn."
"The Fen Inn," he repeated, with a slight start; "what took you to that out of the way place?"
"I came by the marshes, and, as I was belated, had to take the shelter that offered."
"But, man alive!" said Felix, raising his eyebrows, "the inn is empty."
This time it was my turn to be astonished. If Felix thought the inn was empty, why did he appoint it as a meeting place for his brother? He either knew too much or too little, so it behooved me to conduct the conversation with the utmost dexterity.
"It was not empty last night, at all events," I retorted, keeping my eyes fixed on his face.
"Indeed! Are gypsies encamped there?" he said coolly.