“I’m not surprised,” said Philip, “that you should have been upset at seeing me. The body you took from the river was that of my brother—whom I never knew in life. He was, I have every reason to believe, murdered; at all events, I found him lying dead on the river bank. I took his belongings; I took his place—and, by Heaven, Captain—I’ve taken his sins too. I’ve been chased and hunted like a dog for his sins; I’ve had the best woman in the world turn from me, as from a leper, for his sins; and I’ve been in jail for his sins. I put on this hideous disguise, at the whim of a moment; and now I cannot shake it off.” “But there’s them as would swear to you, if need be,” urged the Captain. “Not yet,” replied Philip, hurriedly. “The time may come when I shall be glad to declare who I really am; for the present it is impossible. Meanwhile—what of the body you found in the river?” “Well—I’ve kep’a eye on the papers,” replied the Captain—“an’ I’ve read accounts of the inquest. They set it forth, clear and reg’lar, as ’ow the body ’ad bin left on the river-bank, by two parties wot was evidently afraid of ’avin’ their names mixed up in the business; of ’ow there was nothink on the body to show who it was—an’ the injury to the ’ead might have bin caused by barges, or anythink of that kind. Verdict in consequence—unknown man—found drowned. And, I suppose, buried accordin’.” “Yes—it merely leaves me in a worse position than before. So far as all the world knows—as all the world believes—Dandy Chater is alive—and must stand his trial for the sins he has committed. I have taken his place—his papers—his keys; I should be bound to confess that I saw his body on the shore. If they did not swear that I murdered him, they might laugh at the story, and refuse to recognise any mass of corruption dug up out of the grave as the real Dandy Chater.” “Then wot are you a goin’ to do?” asked the Captain, in perplexity. “There is but one chance for me,” said Philip, thoughtfully. “I have a suspicion that I know who the real murderer of Dandy Chater was; if I can once see him, and force from him any confession, my way is clear. For that purpose I escaped to-night—that purpose and another. And in that I want you to help me.” “There’s my ’and on it,” said the Captain, quickly. “But I don’t think you’ll want much ’elp, Phil,” he added, with a laugh. “Any man as can go a breakin’ jail like you, ought to be a match for most people. ’Ow _did_ yer manage it, Phil?” Philip laughed softly to himself. “It was rather a tough business,” he said. “It all had to be done in a few minutes. I was left alone in a waiting-room for a moment, in going from one part of the prison to another. There was a sort of skylight high up—with hardly too much room for a cat to wriggle through. But there were ropes to it, to open and shut it—and you know what I can do when there’s a rope handy, Quist.”