"Not papa!" expostulated Mrs. Groome. "Do you mean to tell me that you don't know your own father, girl! Why, he is wearing your father's clothes! On his finger is the ring which I gave him on his wedding-day; in his shirt-front are the studs which were my last birthday present."
I saw the ladies into their hired brougham, but I let them drive away alone. I felt that they might desire to say things which they might prefer to say en famille. Still, I managed under cover to assure Miss Nora Groome that I would look in at their hotel in the morning.
When I returned to the music-room I found that Bensberg had engaged Mr. Goad to sup with him. When he asked me to make a third I readily said yes. It was a queer supper party—at least, to me it seemed queer. I perceived that even Bensberg seemed to think that there was something odd about the situation, though he never openly hinted at anything of the kind to me. But I knew him, and I noted how he never allowed his eyes to wander long from Mr. Goad, appearing unwilling to lose count even of his slightest movement. For my part, I almost felt as if I were in the presence of something supernatural. The more closely I observed Mr. Goad the more amazing became his resemblance to Mr. Groome. It seemed incredible that even the two Dromios could have been so alike; and in the face of Mrs. Groome's behaviour, what was a man to think?
Of the three of us, Mr. Goad was certainly most at his ease. I felt persuaded that Bensberg's appearance of ease was as much assumed as mine was.
