“Mr. Keeler,” he said, in a firm tone.

The other left off his working with the lock and a tremor ran through him.

Roy slipped his hand down till it rested under the other’s elbow.

“Come into the library and sit down a moment,” he said gently.

“Where am I?  What have I been doing?”

Roy knew that the man was awake now.

“You have been walking in your sleep,” he replied.

“I beg your pardon.  Did you dress and come down after me?”

“Oh, no, I haven’t been to bed yet.”

Roy flushed as he made this answer, and at this moment the clock on the mantel chimed out twelve strokes.

“Are you in the habit of sitting up till midnight?” asked Mr. Keeler.  “I suppose—­”

He paused suddenly.  His gaze had fallen on that book of criminals Jess had left lying open on the table.  What appeared to be his own portrait stared back at him from the corner of the right hand page.

Roy’s heart almost stood still for a second as he saw that the whole thing was out.  Mr. Keeler dropped into a chair by the table still keeping his eyes fixed on that picture.

Finally he raised them and looked at Roy.

“You have discovered the likeness then?” he said.

There was a depth of misery in his tone that went straight to the boy’s heart.

“Yes,” he said.  “My oldest brother is a lawyer, you know.  He brought this book home yesterday.”

“And you thought I was this man?” went on Mr. Keeler.

“We didn’t know what else to think,” answered Roy in a low voice.

“And you were going to sit up all night to make sure that I didn’t run off with the silver?”

The smile that accompanied these words was a very sad one.  Then the face grew suddenly grave again and without waiting for Roy to make a response to his awkward question, Mr. Keeler continued: 

“I don’t blame you for thinking that brother Martin and I were one and the same person.  He is only a year younger than I and people could never tell us apart when we were boys.  I remember we used to help them out by wearing sleeve buttons, an M on his and a C on mine.

“We were left orphans when very young, and Mart began to go to the bad at once.  It commenced with robbing birds’ nests and orchards, and ended with the confidence game for which he was last sent to jail.  That is the reason I use my pen name always.  I wonder if you believe what I am telling you.”

“Yes, Mr. Keeler, I do,” responded Roy heartily.

“I am sorry I stayed,” went on the author.  “I should not have run the risk.  I had had nobody to vouch for me here, you see.  I will go away now if you say so.”

“Oh, no, no!  I am so sorry it happened.  It was only the merest chance we found out anything about it.  It’s all right now.”

Involuntarily Roy put out his hand.  The other took it with a glad light in his eyes.  Then Roy turned out the lamp and they both went up stairs.