My name is McLane Woods, and the man who looks like you is Hugh Ridgeway of Chicago.
I--I'll be hanged if it isn't too strange to be true." "Very strange, indeed," smiled Hugh, striving to maintain the expression he had assumed at the beginning--a very difficult task.
"But this isn't all.

At Newburg, I boarded the train, and happening to go through, I saw some one that I could have sworn was a Miss Vernon, whom I met when visiting Ridgeway in Chicago.

I started to speak to her; but she gave me such a frigid stare that I sailed by, convinced that I was mistaken.

Two such likenesses in one day beats my time.

Doesn't seem possible, by George! it doesn't," exclaimed the puzzled New Yorker, his eyes glued to the countenance of the man before him, who, by the way, had almost betrayed himself at the mention of Miss Vernon's name.