"Yes; last night."
"Last night!"
He was holding the glass in which the waiter had brought his brandy in his hand. As he echoed my words he brought it down upon the marble-topped table with a crash. It was strange that it was not splintered.
"Last night, as I came from Brighton."
Mr. Townsend must have been in an oddly clumsy mood. As I spoke it seemed to me that he deliberately knocked his glass off the table on to the floor. When he bent over it, it was to find it shivered into fragments. From the waiter, who came to remove the broken remnants, he ordered a fresh supply of brandy. I had my glass replenished too.
"Have you a double, Mr. Townsend, moving about the world?"
He was raising his glass to his lips when I put the question. He spoke before he drank. "A double? What on earth do you mean?"
"Because it was from the lips of your double I heard the name of Louise O'Donnel."
"My double?" He put down his glass, untasted.
"I came up with him in the same train last night from Brighton."