Can you explain this, Miss Morton? Miss Morton:  Dr. Lana desired his secret to be preserved. Mr. Porlock Carr:  Then why have you made this public? Miss Morton:  To save my brother. A murmur of sympathy broke out in court, which was instantly suppressed
by the Judge. The Judge:  Admitting this line of defence, it lies with you, Mr.
Humphrey, to throw a light upon who this man is whose body has been
recognized by so many friends and patients of Dr. Lana as being that of
the doctor himself. A Juryman:  Has anyone up to now expressed any doubt about the matter? Mr. Porlock Carr:  Not to my knowledge. Mr. Humphrey:  We hope to make the matter clear. The Judge:  Then the court adjourns until tomorrow. This new development of the case excited the utmost interest among the
general public. Press comment was prevented by the fact that the trial
was still undecided, but the question was everywhere argued as to how
far there could be truth in Miss Morton's declaration, and how far it
might be a daring ruse for the purpose of saving her brother. The
obvious dilemma in which the missing doctor stood was that if by any
extraordinary chance he was not dead, then he must be held responsible
for the death of this unknown man, who resembled him so exactly, and
who was found in his study. This letter which Miss Morton refused to
produce was possibly a confession of guilt, and she might find herself
in the terrible position of only being able to save her brother from
the gallows by the sacrifice of her former lover. The court next
morning was crammed to overflowing, and a murmur of excitement passed
over it when Mr. Humphrey was observed to enter in a state of emotion,
which even his trained nerves could not conceal, and to confer with the
opposing counsel. A few hurried words--words which left a look of
amazement upon Mr. Porlock Carr's face--passed between them, and then
the counsel for the defence, addressing the Judge, announced that, with
the consent of the prosecution, the young lady who had given evidence
upon the sitting before would not be recalled. The Judge: But you appear, Mr. Humphrey, to have left matters in a very
unsatisfactory state. Mr. Humphrey:  Perhaps, my lord, my next witness may help to clear them
up. The Judge:  Then call your next witness. Mr. Humphrey:  I call Dr. Aloysius Lana. The learned counsel has made many telling remarks in his day, but he
has certainly never produced such a sensation with so short a sentence. The court was simply stunned with amazement as the very man whose fate
had been the subject of so much contention appeared bodily before them
in the witness-box. Those among the spectators who had known him at
Bishop's Crossing saw him now, gaunt and thin, with deep lines of care
upon his face. But in spite of his melancholy bearing and despondent
expression, there were few who could say that they had ever seen a man
of more distinguished presence. Bowing to the judge, he asked if he
might be allowed to make a statement, and having been duly informed
that whatever he said might be used against him, he bowed once more,
and proceeded:

"My wish," said he, "is to hold nothing back, but to tell with perfect
frankness all that occurred upon the night of the 21st of June. Had I
known that the innocent had suffered, and that so much trouble had been
brought upon those whom I love best in the world, I should have come
forward long ago; but there were reasons which prevented these things
from coming to my ears. It was my desire that an unhappy man should
vanish from the world which had known him, but I had not foreseen that
others would be affected by my actions. Let me to the best of my
ability repair the evil which I have done. "To anyone who is acquainted with the history of the Argentine Republic
the name of Lana is well known. My father, who came of the best blood
of old Spain, filled all the highest offices of the State, and would
have been President but for his death in the riots of San Juan. A
brilliant career might have been open to my twin brother Ernest and
myself had it not been for financial losses which made it necessary
that we should earn our own living. I apologize, sir, if these details
appear to be irrelevant, but they are a necessary introduction to that
which is to follow. "I had, as I have said, a twin brother named Ernest, whose resemblance
to me was so great that even when we were together people could see no
difference between us. Down to the smallest detail we were exactly the
same. As we grew older this likeness became less marked because our
expression was not the same, but with our features in repose the points
of difference were very slight. "It does not become me to say too much of one who is dead, the more so
as he is my only brother, but I leave his character to those who knew
him best. I will only say--for I HAVE to say it--that in my early
manhood I conceived a horror of him, and that I had good reason for the
aversion which filled me. My own reputation suffered from his actions,
for our close resemblance caused me to be credited with many of them. Eventually, in a peculiarly disgraceful business, he contrived to throw
the whole odium upon me in such a way that I was forced to leave the
Argentine for ever, and to seek a career in Europe. The freedom from
his hated presence more than compensated me for the loss of my native
land. I had enough money to defray my medical studies at Glasgow, and
I finally settled in practice at Bishop's Crossing, in the firm
conviction that in that remote Lancashire hamlet I should never hear of
him again. "For years my hopes were fulfilled, and then at last he discovered me. Some Liverpool man who visited Buenos Ayres put him upon my track. He
had lost all his money, and he thought that he would come over and
share mine. Knowing my horror of him, he rightly thought that I would
be willing to buy him off. I received a letter from him saying that he
was coming. It was at a crisis in my own affairs, and his arrival
might conceivably bring trouble, and even disgrace, upon some whom I
was especially bound to shield from anything of the kind. I took steps
to insure that any evil which might come should fall on me only, and
that"--here he turned and looked at the prisoner--"was the cause of
conduct upon my part which has been too harshly judged. My only motive
was to screen those who were dear to me from any possible connection
with scandal or disgrace. That scandal and disgrace would come with my
brother was only to say that what had been would be again. "My brother arrived himself one night not very long after my receipt of
the letter. I was sitting in my study after the servants had gone to
bed, when I heard a footstep upon the gravel outside, and an instant
later I saw his face looking in at me through the window. He was a
clean-shaven man like myself, and the resemblance between us was still
so great that, for an instant, I thought it was my own reflection in
the glass.