And Mr. Davis gave the explanation which Bryant might believe or not, or believe in part, as he chose.
"My sister Caroline was deeply attached to me. She was in despair when she heard that I was suspected of murder, and was being hunted by the police. As day after day, week after week, went by, and there was no news of my capture, she got it firmly fixed in her mind that I had committed suicide. She hunted the newspapers every morning to find some paragraph that would confirm her fears. And then one day she read about what had happened at Cathcart Square."
Mr. Bryant was now deeply interested. He leaned forward in his chair, and his attitude betokened his eagerness.
"It is possible that her mind had become a little unhinged by her anxiety. She expected to find me, and she found a man who might have passed for my twin brother. So she tells me now that I have revealed myself, for, of course, I lay very low until this belated confession of the real murderer."
Bryant only made a brief comment on this particular portion of the narrative which Davis was twisting about with some skill. Of course, Mrs. Masters had not been deceived by the accidental resemblance, but in pretending to be she had given that brother a new lease of life.
"You say that the man was so like you that the sister, who had known you from childhood, was ready to swear he was her brother?"
"There is no doubt, sir, that at the time her mind was clouded. She went there expecting to find me, and as a not altogether unnatural result, she found what she expected."
"We will let that pass," said the Inspector drily. "No doubt, under extraordinary circumstances, strange hallucinations are apt to occur. It was very fortunate for you that your sister made that mistake, and that it was accepted. As you admitted just now, if you had been caught and tried it would have gone very hardly with you."
Whatever Bryant thought in his own mind, it was evident that he was prepared to admit that Mrs. Masters had acted in good faith when she swore that the dead man was her brother. Davis could see there would be no trouble on that score.
"Now we come to the letter," pursued Davis. "I questioned my sister very closely about that last night. She says she was so overwhelmed with the discovery that she read that letter through a mist, as it were, but she is positive that it closely resembled my handwriting."