"I don't care what your name is," retorted Gilbert, irritated a little by what he believed to be the other's unnecessary reserve. "You can get rid of your name and call yourself Manton or Jones or Smith or Robinson or anything you like for all I care! But I know you to be Bernard Treves, and——"
But this time a note of firmness appeared in Manton's voice.
"My name is not Treves, sir!"
Gilbert shrugged his shoulders.
"You needn't keep up that note with me," he said. "I'm delighted to find you have the grit to try to make some sort of reparation."
Manton moistened his lips.
"I still don't understand you," he said slowly. "But all I can do is to assure you I am not Treves. If you know some one who resembles me and whose name is Treves, perhaps you would look at me again. To my knowledge, sir, I have never met you in my life before."
As he spoke he took off his hat and turned his face fully towards the Captain.
For a moment there was silence.
"In this half-darkness," said Gilbert, "you look absolutely like Bernard Treves to me. You looked like him in the office. I could see that you had been in the army the minute you stood at my table." He paused, and for the first time a slight doubt crept over him. "The only thing that seems changed to me," he went on, "is your manner. Come, now, Treves, you know me well enough to confide in me; that's why I asked you to speak to me out of the office. Anything you care to say will go no further. I will accept it as unofficial, and if you intend to make good I'm prepared to be a good friend to you. But in the first place admit that you are Treves; it will make matters much easier."