‘And you wish to pass under the name of Philip Debenham?’ ‘I do.’ ‘Is there a Philip Debenham in reality?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘And have you and he changed names and positions?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘How many people are in this plot?’ ‘Nobody knows of its existence save myself, and now yourself. You and I, Miss Marjory, are the sole conspirators.’ ‘And Philip Debenham.’ ‘No. He knows no more about it than that table. He is lying ill, unconscious of what is passing, at a doctor’s house in Germany.’ ‘Torrington Torwood, you called me just now a conspirator, and perhaps I may consent to be one, for I cannot but like you for your father’s sake. But I must know the rights of this. I never choose to act in the dark. I shall not abuse your confidence, whether I become an ally or not. You had better make a clean breast of it, and tell me all; and then, if I approve your course of action, I do not say but that I may be willing to help you, if I can.’ ‘Thank you, Miss Marjory. I am sure I can trust you, from what my father has told me of you, and of Whitbury. I believe my only course is to take you into my confidence.’ ‘To be sure it is. I am a woman, so I am curious, and of course I like a little bit of intrigue. Come, now, tell me all about it. Mr. Debenham is ill, and unconscious, and you have adopted his name and position, and yet nobody knows. How is that?’ ‘Because nobody has seen him since he was ten years old. His father died then, and an old brute of an uncle sent him abroad and kept him there; and before he had ever been home at all, his uncle found him such an uncongenial berth in an office, that he elected to cut and run, and came to me, and we have been travelling the world over, he and I, these ten years; but as none of his people have seen him since he was a small boy, I pass for him easily enough.’ ‘But why should you pass for him? Why doesn’t he—why don’t you bring him over and wait till he recovers?’ ‘Because the date of his recovery is very doubtful, and the journey to England was impossible for him then.’ ‘But why did you personate him? Why could you not speak the truth about it?’ ‘I believe now, that that would have been the best way; but the idea struck me all in a moment, and it seemed too good a joke to lose. The comic side was certainly uppermost in my mind at first; and only when it was too late to draw back, did I realize the more serious aspect of the affair.’ ‘But I want to understand better. Are you trying to be of use to him—or what? Why did it become necessary for him to go to his relations at all?’