“My wish,” said he, “is to hold nothing back, but to tell with perfect frankness all that occurred upon the night of the 21st of June.  Had I known that the innocent had suffered, and that so much trouble had been brought upon those whom I love best in the world, I should have come forward long ago; but there were reasons which prevented these things from coming to my ears.  It was my desire that an unhappy man should vanish from the world which had known him, but I had not foreseen that others would be affected by my actions.  Let me to the best of my ability repair the evil which I have done.

“To anyone who is acquainted with the history of the Argentine Republic the name of Lana is well known.  My father, who came of the best blood of old Spain, filled all the highest offices of the State, and would have been President but for his death in the riots of San Juan.  A brilliant career might have been open to my twin brother Ernest and myself had it not been for financial losses which made it necessary that we should earn our own living.  I apologize, sir, if these details appear to be irrelevant, but they are a necessary introduction to that which is to follow.

“I had, as I have said, a twin brother named Ernest, whose resemblance to me was so great that even when we were together people could see no difference between us.  Down to the smallest detail we were exactly the same.  As we grew older this likeness became less marked because our expression was not the same, but with our features in repose the points of difference were very slight.

“It does not become me to say too much of one who is dead, the more so as he is my only brother, but I leave his character to those who knew him best.  I will only say—­for I have to say it—­that in my early manhood I conceived a horror of him, and that I had good reason for the aversion which filled me.  My own reputation suffered from his actions, for our close resemblance caused me to be credited with many of them.  Eventually, in a peculiarly disgraceful business, he contrived to throw the whole odium upon me in such a way that I was forced to leave the Argentine for ever, and to seek a career in Europe.  The freedom from his hated presence more than compensated me for the loss of my native land.  I had enough money to defray my medical studies at Glasgow, and I finally settled in practice at Bishop’s Crossing, in the firm conviction that in that remote Lancashire hamlet I should never hear of him again.

“For years my hopes were fulfilled, and then at last he discovered me.  Some Liverpool man who visited Buenos Ayres put him upon my track.  He had lost all his money, and he thought that he would come over and share mine.  Knowing my horror of him, he rightly thought that I would be willing to buy him off.  I received a letter from him saying that he was coming.  It was at a crisis in my own affairs, and his arrival might conceivably