"Of course it is a better place for a business man. You may come to live here in time."
"Perhaps so."
By this time they had reached a room on the third floor. Brand opened the door and led the way in. It was a long, narrow room, with one window at the end, and was very plainly furnished. The bed did not appear to have been made, and there was a dirty towel hanging over the back of a chair. Gerald was certainly surprised. He supposed that Brand had a comfortable home. In fact, he thought he occupied a whole house, as was the case with those whom he knew in Portville.
"Isn't your wife at home?" he asked, for he saw no signs of a woman's occupation.
"My wife?" asked Brand, looking surprised.
"Yes; you said you wanted your wife to see me, on account of my resemblance to Jack Mortimer."
"Oh, yes; of course. It didn't occur to me that my wife had gone over to Brooklyn to spend the day."
There was something in his tone and in the surroundings that excited Gerald's suspicion for the first time.
"I think if that is the case, Mr. Brand, I will not stay," he said.
Brand did not reply, but deliberately locked the door and put the key in his pocket.