"It was a miracle!" said Peaches. "No two people could look so much alike."
"He had a brother," I began doubtfully, "who was merely supposed to be dead. Sandro would have known you at once."
"But didn't he?" she questioned, striding up and down the room with her long, clean gesture of body. "Why didn't he speak at once? He was too much amazed!"
"Nonsense!" I exclaimed. "How could he be amazed, when as a servant in this house—in all probability Sebastian's valet—he must have known in advance all about your coming here!"
"That's so," said Peaches. "And, of course there are differences—the grayness, the lines in his face. But something may have happened to him."
"Very likely!" I replied dryly. "Considering we have heard from Cousin Abby that he was killed in action."
"But it may have been a mistake," she whispered. "Stranger things have happened. And a servant! No—even if he had gone quite mad and forgotten everything that would hardly be possible."
"Servant or not, if it is he, why on earth shouldn't he recognize you?" I demanded. "That's the sort of encounter which is supposed to bring people to their senses, you know."
"But didn't he recognize me?" she replied with a doubt willfully sustained. "Just for an instant, I was so sure! Well!"
"What are we going to do about it?" I said. "If by chance it really is Sandro it's a nice situation, I'm sure! With your wedding only a few weeks off and, and—why, good gracious! It's simply terrible!"