I followed him and took the
liberty of closing the door after me. Then I took off my hat, drew myself
up to my full height, and dropped the foreign accent which I had been at
so much pains to acquire.
"Don't you know me, Gilbert?" I asked.
He started at the sound of my voice, and took a quick step towards me. I
held out my hand.
"God in Heaven, it's Hardross!" he exclaimed.
I laughed as our hands met.
"I shall not bother about my disguise any longer," I remarked. "It is
evidently better even than I had hoped."
He wrung my hand. I was delighted to see that there was nothing in his
face but joy.
"Old chap!" he exclaimed, "I'm delighted. I can't say more. You've
knocked me all of a heap. For Heaven's sake talk! I should like to be
quite sure that I'm awake."
"You're awake all right," I answered, "as sure as I'm alive! How well you
look in black, old man! I suppose it's for me?"
He nodded.
"How on earth," he exclaimed, "could the papers have made such a
mistake?"
"They weren't so much to blame. A man was murdered in the Rockies who
called himself Hardross Courage, and who was travelling with my traps.
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