“Dusty ride, isn›t it? I don›t mind it myself; I›m used to it. Born and bred in de briar patch, like Br›er Rabbit. I›ve been trying to place you for a long time; I think I must have met you before.”
“Thank you,” said Everett, taking the card; “my name is Hilgarde. You›ve probably met my brother, Adriance; people often mistake me for him.”
The travelling-man brought his hand down upon his knee with such vehemence that the solitaire blazed.
“So I was right after all, and if you›re not Adriance Hilgarde you›re his double. I thought I couldn›t be mistaken. Seen him? Well, I guess! I never missed one of his recitals at the Auditorium, and he played the piano score of Proserpine through to us once at the Chicago Press Club. I used to be on the Commercial there before I began to travel for the
