The Four Faces, page 109 by William le Queux
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to look right through me. They seemed to read my thoughts and wrest my secrets from me.
"And you found nothing upon him that might have given you a clue, I suppose; nothing in his pockets, no marks upon the body, there was nothing he was wearing that might have put you on the track?"
"Absolutely nothing," I answered, thinking of the locket as I looked straight into her eyes. Never before had I realized how cleverly I could lie.
It was close on midnight when we all assembled in the hall preparatory to leaving--those of us who were leaving. Hugesson Gastrell had left long before, in fact immediately after dinner, as he had, he said, an important appointment in London. Somebody nudged me lightly as he brushed past, and glancing round I caught Osborne's eye. He made no sign whatever, yet there was something in his look which made me think he wanted me, and a minute later I sauntered after him into the room where the hats and coats had been.
But for us, the room was now deserted. Glancing quickly to right and left, Jack walked over to a corner where a tall screen stood. There was nobody behind it.
He beckoned to me, and I approached.
"We are among a set of scoundrels," he said rapidly, under his breath. "I am glad to see that you too didn't recognize him."
"Recognize whom?" I asked in astonishment, also speaking in a whisper.
"Preston, the ex-detective. I introduced him to you the last time we met in town."
"I remember the man perfectly, but surely he isn't here."
Jack's lips stretched into a grin.
"'Lord Cranmere,'" he said. "That's Preston!"
He chuckled.
"Cranmere's own brother was actually deceived when we brought the two together, as a test," he went on. "Preston is a genius. He doesn't merely 'make up' to look like someone else; he doesn't, when he is made up, just impersonate the character; for the time he is the man, he 'feels like him,' he says, he shares his views, he becomes his other ego. He has the advantage