The young man looked at him with those unrevealing eyes of his. "When I came in," he said, "you took me for my brother."
"Yes. They were twins. Not identical twins, but of course very — " The full implication of what he was saying came home to him. "God bless my soul, so I did. So I did."
He sat for a moment or two staring in a helpless fashion. And while he stared Mercer came in with the tea.
"Do you take tea?" Mr. Sandal asked, the question being merely a reflex conditioned by the presence of the tea-tray.
"Thank you," said the young man. "No sugar."
"You do realise, don't you," Mr. Sandal said, half-appealingly, "that such a very startling and-and serious claim must be investigated? One cannot, you understand, merely accept your statement."
"I don't expect you to."
"Good. That is good. Very sensible of you. At some later date it may be possible-the fatted calf-but just now we have to be sensible about it. You do see that. Milk?"
"Thank you."
"For instance: you ran away, you say. Ran away to sea, I take it."