“It’s worse than that!” answered Jess in a sepulchral tone.  “Look here.”

She pointed to the spot on which Eva’s gaze had been riveted.

“Why, it’s Mr. Keeler’s picture!” exclaimed Roy.

“Read what it says underneath,” went on Jess in the same tone.

Roy let his eyes drop to the printed lines beneath the portrait, which was one of six which adorned the page.  This is what he read: 

Martin Blakesley,

Alias “Gentleman George,” “Lancelot Marker” etc., Confidence Man.

“What book is this?” asked Roy.

His voice was hard.  He hardly recognized it himself when he heard it.

“‘Noted Criminals of the United States,’” replied Jess.  “Syd brought it home last week to look up something or other he wanted to use in a case.  I was glancing through it this morning and saw this picture then.  I knew I’d seen Mr. Keeler somewhere before as soon as I laid eyes on him this afternoon.”

“Perhaps it’s only somebody that looks like him,” said Eva faintly.  “He has a larger mustache than that now.”

“It’s had plenty of time to grow,” rejoined Jess significantly.  “This book was published two or three years ago.  See, here is his history.  No. 131,” and she began to look over the pages till she came to the paragraphs of description accompanying the portrait.

The three heads bent over the page eagerly, while Roy, in a low voice, read the facts about No. 131.  He had been in jail twice, it seemed, his last term having expired, as Roy figured, some four months previous.  He was noted for his suave manners and the facility with which he imposed on strangers.

“That’s the man,” murmured Jess.  “What are we going to do?”

Eva stepped back to the sofa and sank down upon it as if every bit of strength had gone away from her.

“It doesn’t seem possible,” was all Roy could say for the moment.

Then he turned back to the picture and studied it long and intently.  Meanwhile the steady murmur of voices could be heard from above.  Rex was showing Mr. Keeler the treasures in their room.

“I had better go up and ask him to leave,” then said Roy suddenly.

“Oh, no, no, that will precipitate a quarrel,” exclaimed Jess.  “He may murder us all.”

“What do you want me to do then?” asked Roy.

“I don’t see that you can do anything except sit up with Eva and me down here till morning.  I’m sure I should never sleep a wink if I went to bed.”

“I’m hoping yet there’ll be some way to prove we are mistaken in thinking him the same person,” put in Eva.

“You might take this book up, Roy, and show it to him, then if he didn’t flush when he saw this picture we’d know it was all right.”

“And if it wasn’t, poor Roy might be stabbed where he stood,” added Jess cheerfully.  “I tell you! we might cry fire and scare him out that way.”