Man in Duplicate
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Synopsis
Playboy millionaire Harvey Bradman is set an ultimatum by his fiancée: before she marries him, he must carry out some significant, courageous act. Amazingly, the next day the newspapers carry a full report of Harvey's heroic rescue of a woman from her stalled car on a level crossing! But Harvey had been asleep in bed at the time of the incident. And when his mysterious twin seeks him out, he becomes enmeshed in the sinister cosmic conspiracy being waged by his alien doppelganger...
Release date: March 31, 2015
Publisher: Gateway
Print pages: 213
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Man in Duplicate
John Russell Fearn
The two had been at the secluded corner table of the exclusive night spot for over an hour. Their conversation had been so engrossing they had failed to notice the cabaret show, furthermore, they had not risen to take part in the general floor dancing, which was unusual, since the couple were known to be two of the best dancers in London’s upper social set.
The girl was looking serious and determined. She was attired in the very latest evening gown and the gems which flashed at intervals from her ears and wrists were genuine. She was black haired, creamy-skinned, and as good looking as cosmetics could make her.
Her escort and donor of the jewellery, was immaculate in the male fashion, the silk revers on his evening jacket occasionally catching the light. Blonde, good-looking, worth nearly two millions, Harvey Bradman was quite the most eligible playboy bachelor in town. Even so, and despite the fact that she knew many rivals might leap into the gap she was making, Vera Maynard was absolute in her refusal to marry him. Hence the absorption: hence Harvey’s pleadings.
“Can’t see the reason,” he said at last, with a moody glance around him. “I hope I’m hundred per cent male, and it certainly can’t be that I haven’t enough money to look after you, unless there’s some kind of parental opposition? No, even that isn’t possible. You’re of age and can please yourself. So what is it?”
Vera gave a faint smile. “Just can’t guess it, can you? You’ve waltzed around everything and never seen the reason for my turning down your proposal.”
Harvey pondered, genuinely worried. Vera did not interrupt him. She lighted a cigarette and waited.
“Can only be you just plain don’t like me,” Harvey sighed at last. “Which is an awful pity. I’d sort of got the idea in the few months we’ve known each other that we——”
“Oh, I like you enough, Harvey.”
“Can’t do or you’d agree to marry me.”
“I will when you make yourself worthwhile.”
Harvey’s expression changed and his blue eyes studied the girl’s face. “Make myself worthwhile? So that’s it! You think I’m a waster!”
“I know you are. I don’t mean that nastily, believe me.” Vera’s hand rested upon his. “You’re one of the best fellows in the world, and as generous a man as one could wish to meet—but you definitely are throwing your life away. Just because your father made several millions as a shipping line magnate is no reason for you to drift around doing nothing.”
“Become one of the common herd, eh?” Harvey grinned. “Take the ’bus to work every morning and get my meals in a downtown cafe at cut rates?”
“That would hardly be necessary, though I don’t suppose it would do you any harm.” Vera released his hand and sat back in her chair. “No, the kind of thing I envisage is you at the top of some particular profession—say architecture, engineering, chemistry, or something like that. Choose whichever you prefer and make a good job of it.”
“At twenty-eight!” Harvey gasped. “Dammit, Vera, I’m an old man!”
“Not too old to learn. Plenty of great men didn’t start anything vital until they reached thirty. You can do the same.”
“And am I to assume that during this—er—apprenticeship you would calmly sit around and wait for me? With the kind of mind I’ve got I’d probably be sixty before I drew my first pay.”
“I’d wait—and don’t exaggerate!” Vera added severely. “You are quite capable enough only you don’t try. Can’t you see that it is because I’m fond of you that I want you to make something of your life?”
“Make the world a better place for having been here, eh?”
Harvey was still grinning. “You’re the most frightful optimist, Vee, and a bit crazy too. Here am I with millions, a town and country house, and all the outpourings of my generous heart—and you want me to become a council house builder, or something.”
“I didn’t say that. Stick to the point. I work too, you know, even though dad has more money than he’ll ever use. I’m head of the Women’s Help Legion.”
“Oh,” Harvey said solemnly; then his mood changed abruptly. “Oh, chuck all this rot, Vee! It doesn’t make sense in our set—”
“It does to me. If you find you can’t make a career in time, then do something noteworthy. One act to get out of yourself and prove you’re capable of standing on your own two feet.”
Harvey got up deliberately. “Time I took you home, Vee. You’re getting light-headed.”
“Not a bit of it. I’ve given you the conditions on which I’ll marry you. It’s up to you now. I’ll certainly never tie myself to a playboy with nothing to recommend him but his bank balance.” Vera gently pushed away the chinchilla cape which Harvey held ready for her. “I’m not going home yet, Harvey. I’m expecting Maisie to drop in and I want a word with her.”
Harvey sighed and lowered the cape to the chair back again. “Then, Miss Maynard, if I have your permission I will withdraw, if only to give your proposition some thought. May I disturb you on the ’phone in the morning about mid-day?”
“You may.”
Harvey stooped, kissed her smooth forehead somewhat perfunctorily, and then wandered from the opulent dining-room. He gathered his hat and coat from the cloakroom and drifted out of the night spot in something of a daze.
“Your car, Mr. Bradman?” the commissionaire asked.
“Car? Eh-oh, yes. Look, Charles,” Harvey continued, as the commissionaire gave a signal, “what would you call a very courageous act?”
Charles looked vaguely surprised, but he was accustomed to handling all kinds of customers.
“I’d say going to the dentist, sir, and telling him to take out every tooth without gas!”
Harvey sighed. “That wouldn’t convince her. Thanks all the same. Here, buy yourself a couple of cigars.”
“Thank you, sir.” Charles pocketed the money, held open the rear door of the limousine, and then closed it again as Harvey sank wearily into the cushions.
“Home, Richards,” he told the chauffeur. “Miss Maynard will not be with me tonight.”
“Very good, Mr. Bradman.”
Harvey remained in his abstracted mood all the way to his town residence just off Piccadilly Circus. He was still looking profoundly sorry for himself as Peters, his manservant, relieved him of his hat and coat.
“Are we not feeling very well, sir?” Peters asked.
“I’m fine,” Harvey replied solemnly.
Peters knew better than to argue but he could be permitted the doubt on his lean face. He was a tall man in the late fifties, punctual as the sunrise and extremely devoted to the drifting young man who, he secretly felt—as Vera Maynard did—had hidden possibilities.
“My apologies, sir, but I have not yet had supper prepared for you. You are, if I may say so, a trifle early.”
“Two hours early,” Harvey agreed. “I’ve had what is known in vulgar parlance as the brush-off.”
“Indeed, sir?” Peters glided to the massive mahogany hall wardrobe, rid himself of the hat and coat, closed cellophane wrappers over them, and then returned to Harvey’s side.”
“Am I to assume that Miss Maynard was responsible, sir?”
“The assumption is correct. Come and fix me a ‘scarlet lady’, Peters, and I’ll tell you all about it. I think you may be able to help me.”
“I’d be delighted, sir.”
Peters paced majestically behind Harvey as he wandered into the lounge and threw himself on the divan. Then he found his drink beside him on the occasional table. He looked up at Peter’s waiting figure.
“Peters, I have either to decide on a career, and finish at the head of it, or else I have to perform an act which will make everybody realize I don’t exclusively spend my time getting rid of money and filling myself with drink.”
Peters gave a faint, impersonal smile. “The terms of Miss Maynard before she will marry you, sir?”
“How did you guess?” Harvey moodily sipped his drink.
“Well, sir, you did mention before departing this evening that you were—hmm—going to ‘pop the question’ to Miss Maynard, so my deduction is hardly brilliant.”
Harvey finished his drink, lighted a cigarette, then got to his feet.
“Point is, Peters, what in blazes am I going to do? I can’t start learning a profession at my age. Besides, there isn’t any profession I’m interested in.”
“You have at times evinced an interest in things scientific, sir. You certainly have a profound interest in the present day tendencies of science.”
“I know, but that’s purely what any intelligent person would have. It doesn’t say I should work myself into a second Einstein, or something, does it?”
Since Peters frankly considered this an impossibility he passed no comment.
“Some brave deed.” Harvey stood musing, staring at the glowing end of his cigarette between his fingers. “Happen to know any blonde who wants carrying out of a burning building, Peters?”
“Even if I did I would suggest that such a matter would be safer in the hands of the fire brigade, sir. In fact, thinking the matter over, it would appear that Miss Maynard has posed quite a difficult proposition.”
“Difficult! It’s monstrous!”
Harvey returned his cigarette to his lips and smoked savagely. Peters waited, his upward turned eyes revealing the profundity of his concentration.
“Maybe I’ll think better in the morning,” Harvey said at length, shrugging. “For once in my wild, mad life I’ll turn in early.”
“Very good, sir.”
And so, by one o’clock Harvey was fast asleep, and to judge from the smile on his face Vera’s ultimatum was not troubling him very deeply. Peters for his part tried to think of something original and within the range of his young master’s capabilities—but at last he decided he could not make bricks without straw and so also went to sleep.
At seven o’clock he was astir as usual to prepare Harvey’s early cup of tea. This was the time of day which Peters liked. He was the sole servant in the house and when Harvey was not around Peters became a human being, smoked at his work, and never wore his jacket.
He collected the paper from the front door mat and took it into the kitchen to enjoy a cup of tea and read the news. Then his eye presently lighted on a photograph and he gave a violent start and the half filled teacup dropped unheeded to the floor.
“Blow me down!” Peters ejaculate. . .
The girl was looking serious and determined. She was attired in the very latest evening gown and the gems which flashed at intervals from her ears and wrists were genuine. She was black haired, creamy-skinned, and as good looking as cosmetics could make her.
Her escort and donor of the jewellery, was immaculate in the male fashion, the silk revers on his evening jacket occasionally catching the light. Blonde, good-looking, worth nearly two millions, Harvey Bradman was quite the most eligible playboy bachelor in town. Even so, and despite the fact that she knew many rivals might leap into the gap she was making, Vera Maynard was absolute in her refusal to marry him. Hence the absorption: hence Harvey’s pleadings.
“Can’t see the reason,” he said at last, with a moody glance around him. “I hope I’m hundred per cent male, and it certainly can’t be that I haven’t enough money to look after you, unless there’s some kind of parental opposition? No, even that isn’t possible. You’re of age and can please yourself. So what is it?”
Vera gave a faint smile. “Just can’t guess it, can you? You’ve waltzed around everything and never seen the reason for my turning down your proposal.”
Harvey pondered, genuinely worried. Vera did not interrupt him. She lighted a cigarette and waited.
“Can only be you just plain don’t like me,” Harvey sighed at last. “Which is an awful pity. I’d sort of got the idea in the few months we’ve known each other that we——”
“Oh, I like you enough, Harvey.”
“Can’t do or you’d agree to marry me.”
“I will when you make yourself worthwhile.”
Harvey’s expression changed and his blue eyes studied the girl’s face. “Make myself worthwhile? So that’s it! You think I’m a waster!”
“I know you are. I don’t mean that nastily, believe me.” Vera’s hand rested upon his. “You’re one of the best fellows in the world, and as generous a man as one could wish to meet—but you definitely are throwing your life away. Just because your father made several millions as a shipping line magnate is no reason for you to drift around doing nothing.”
“Become one of the common herd, eh?” Harvey grinned. “Take the ’bus to work every morning and get my meals in a downtown cafe at cut rates?”
“That would hardly be necessary, though I don’t suppose it would do you any harm.” Vera released his hand and sat back in her chair. “No, the kind of thing I envisage is you at the top of some particular profession—say architecture, engineering, chemistry, or something like that. Choose whichever you prefer and make a good job of it.”
“At twenty-eight!” Harvey gasped. “Dammit, Vera, I’m an old man!”
“Not too old to learn. Plenty of great men didn’t start anything vital until they reached thirty. You can do the same.”
“And am I to assume that during this—er—apprenticeship you would calmly sit around and wait for me? With the kind of mind I’ve got I’d probably be sixty before I drew my first pay.”
“I’d wait—and don’t exaggerate!” Vera added severely. “You are quite capable enough only you don’t try. Can’t you see that it is because I’m fond of you that I want you to make something of your life?”
“Make the world a better place for having been here, eh?”
Harvey was still grinning. “You’re the most frightful optimist, Vee, and a bit crazy too. Here am I with millions, a town and country house, and all the outpourings of my generous heart—and you want me to become a council house builder, or something.”
“I didn’t say that. Stick to the point. I work too, you know, even though dad has more money than he’ll ever use. I’m head of the Women’s Help Legion.”
“Oh,” Harvey said solemnly; then his mood changed abruptly. “Oh, chuck all this rot, Vee! It doesn’t make sense in our set—”
“It does to me. If you find you can’t make a career in time, then do something noteworthy. One act to get out of yourself and prove you’re capable of standing on your own two feet.”
Harvey got up deliberately. “Time I took you home, Vee. You’re getting light-headed.”
“Not a bit of it. I’ve given you the conditions on which I’ll marry you. It’s up to you now. I’ll certainly never tie myself to a playboy with nothing to recommend him but his bank balance.” Vera gently pushed away the chinchilla cape which Harvey held ready for her. “I’m not going home yet, Harvey. I’m expecting Maisie to drop in and I want a word with her.”
Harvey sighed and lowered the cape to the chair back again. “Then, Miss Maynard, if I have your permission I will withdraw, if only to give your proposition some thought. May I disturb you on the ’phone in the morning about mid-day?”
“You may.”
Harvey stooped, kissed her smooth forehead somewhat perfunctorily, and then wandered from the opulent dining-room. He gathered his hat and coat from the cloakroom and drifted out of the night spot in something of a daze.
“Your car, Mr. Bradman?” the commissionaire asked.
“Car? Eh-oh, yes. Look, Charles,” Harvey continued, as the commissionaire gave a signal, “what would you call a very courageous act?”
Charles looked vaguely surprised, but he was accustomed to handling all kinds of customers.
“I’d say going to the dentist, sir, and telling him to take out every tooth without gas!”
Harvey sighed. “That wouldn’t convince her. Thanks all the same. Here, buy yourself a couple of cigars.”
“Thank you, sir.” Charles pocketed the money, held open the rear door of the limousine, and then closed it again as Harvey sank wearily into the cushions.
“Home, Richards,” he told the chauffeur. “Miss Maynard will not be with me tonight.”
“Very good, Mr. Bradman.”
Harvey remained in his abstracted mood all the way to his town residence just off Piccadilly Circus. He was still looking profoundly sorry for himself as Peters, his manservant, relieved him of his hat and coat.
“Are we not feeling very well, sir?” Peters asked.
“I’m fine,” Harvey replied solemnly.
Peters knew better than to argue but he could be permitted the doubt on his lean face. He was a tall man in the late fifties, punctual as the sunrise and extremely devoted to the drifting young man who, he secretly felt—as Vera Maynard did—had hidden possibilities.
“My apologies, sir, but I have not yet had supper prepared for you. You are, if I may say so, a trifle early.”
“Two hours early,” Harvey agreed. “I’ve had what is known in vulgar parlance as the brush-off.”
“Indeed, sir?” Peters glided to the massive mahogany hall wardrobe, rid himself of the hat and coat, closed cellophane wrappers over them, and then returned to Harvey’s side.”
“Am I to assume that Miss Maynard was responsible, sir?”
“The assumption is correct. Come and fix me a ‘scarlet lady’, Peters, and I’ll tell you all about it. I think you may be able to help me.”
“I’d be delighted, sir.”
Peters paced majestically behind Harvey as he wandered into the lounge and threw himself on the divan. Then he found his drink beside him on the occasional table. He looked up at Peter’s waiting figure.
“Peters, I have either to decide on a career, and finish at the head of it, or else I have to perform an act which will make everybody realize I don’t exclusively spend my time getting rid of money and filling myself with drink.”
Peters gave a faint, impersonal smile. “The terms of Miss Maynard before she will marry you, sir?”
“How did you guess?” Harvey moodily sipped his drink.
“Well, sir, you did mention before departing this evening that you were—hmm—going to ‘pop the question’ to Miss Maynard, so my deduction is hardly brilliant.”
Harvey finished his drink, lighted a cigarette, then got to his feet.
“Point is, Peters, what in blazes am I going to do? I can’t start learning a profession at my age. Besides, there isn’t any profession I’m interested in.”
“You have at times evinced an interest in things scientific, sir. You certainly have a profound interest in the present day tendencies of science.”
“I know, but that’s purely what any intelligent person would have. It doesn’t say I should work myself into a second Einstein, or something, does it?”
Since Peters frankly considered this an impossibility he passed no comment.
“Some brave deed.” Harvey stood musing, staring at the glowing end of his cigarette between his fingers. “Happen to know any blonde who wants carrying out of a burning building, Peters?”
“Even if I did I would suggest that such a matter would be safer in the hands of the fire brigade, sir. In fact, thinking the matter over, it would appear that Miss Maynard has posed quite a difficult proposition.”
“Difficult! It’s monstrous!”
Harvey returned his cigarette to his lips and smoked savagely. Peters waited, his upward turned eyes revealing the profundity of his concentration.
“Maybe I’ll think better in the morning,” Harvey said at length, shrugging. “For once in my wild, mad life I’ll turn in early.”
“Very good, sir.”
And so, by one o’clock Harvey was fast asleep, and to judge from the smile on his face Vera’s ultimatum was not troubling him very deeply. Peters for his part tried to think of something original and within the range of his young master’s capabilities—but at last he decided he could not make bricks without straw and so also went to sleep.
At seven o’clock he was astir as usual to prepare Harvey’s early cup of tea. This was the time of day which Peters liked. He was the sole servant in the house and when Harvey was not around Peters became a human being, smoked at his work, and never wore his jacket.
He collected the paper from the front door mat and took it into the kitchen to enjoy a cup of tea and read the news. Then his eye presently lighted on a photograph and he gave a violent start and the half filled teacup dropped unheeded to the floor.
“Blow me down!” Peters ejaculate. . .
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