Von Ragastein rose to his feet. Not content with the sound of that regular breathing, he made his way to the opening of the banda and gazed in at Dominey's slumbering form. Then he returned. “It is something which you do not wish the Englishman to hear?” the doctor asked. “It is.” “We speak in German.” “Languages,” was the cautious reply, “happen to be that man's only accomplishment. He can speak German as fluently as you or I. That, however, is of no consequence. He sleeps and he will continue to sleep. I mixed him a sleeping draught with his whisky and soda.” “Ah!” the doctor grunted. “My principal need in England is an identity,” Von Ragastein pointed out. “I have made up my mind. I shall take this Englishman's. I shall return to England as Sir Everard Dominey.” “So!” “There is a remarkable likeness between us, and Dominey has not seen an Englishman who knows him for eight or ten years. Any school or college friends whom I may encounter I shall be able to satisfy. I have stayed at Dominey. I know Dominey's relatives. To-night he has babbled for hours, telling me many things that it is well for me to know.” “What about his near relatives?” “He has none nearer than cousins.” “No wife?” Von Ragastein paused and turned his head. The deep breathing inside the banda had certainly ceased. He rose to his feet and, stealing uneasily to the opening, gazed down upon his guest's outstretched form. To all appearance, Dominey still slept deeply. After a moment or two's watch, Von Ragastein returned to his place. “Therein lies his tragedy,” he confided, dropping his voice a little lower. “She is insane--insane, it seems, through a shock for which he was responsible. She might have been the only stumbling block, and she is as though she did not exist.” “It is a great scheme,” the doctor murmured enthusiastically. “It is a wonderful one! That great and unrevealed Power, Schmidt, which watches over our country and which will make her mistress of the world, must have guided this man to us. My position in England will be unique. As Sir Everard Dominey I shall be able to penetrate into the inner circles of Society--perhaps, even, of political life. I shall be able, if necessary, to remain in England even after the storm bursts.” “Supposing,” the doctor suggested, “this man Dominey should return to England?” Von Ragastein turned his head and looked towards his questioner. “He must not,” he pronounced. “So!” the doctor murmured. Late in the afternoon of the following day, Dominey, with a couple of boys for escort and his rifle slung across his shoulder, rode into the bush along the way he had come. The little fat doctor stood and watched him, waving his hat until he was out of sight. Then he called to the orderly. “Heinrich,” he said, “you are sure that the Herr Englishman has the whisky?” “The water bottles are filled with nothing else, Herr Doctor,” the man replied. “There is no water or soda water in the pack?”