‘Then there’s Maud: she is coming of age soon—that may mean in a week or two, for aught I know. From what old Maynard says, I imagine the condition she speaks of is a marriage with Lewis Belassis. Somebody ought to be there to stop that, if possible. Without support she may let herself be bullied into it. Confound it all! What is a fellow to do? ‘Could I get a power of attorney drawn up, authorizing me to act for Phil till his recovery? That might be a good plan, only he can’t sign it. Could I sign it for him? He has modelled his handwriting upon mine so long that I can hardly distinguish them myself. He has written to no one but Maud for ten years at least, and to her he merely signs “Phil.” His actual signature is unknown to anyone; mine would do just as well—my representation of it. But then—stop—no, that would be too dangerous a game to play. It would have to come out all about his stroke and illness, and some one might start the reasonable objection that a man in Phil’s state couldn’t sign a power of attorney.’ Tor thought long and earnestly. Plan after plan entered his head, only to be found, upon a little study, hopelessly impracticable. Half an hour passed in vain speculation, and then an inspiration seemed to seize him; he paused, and slowly a strange expression stole over his face, and his eyes began to shine with a variety of stirring thoughts. When he spoke again, it was with peculiar deliberation and composure. ‘Yes, certainly that seems the best and simplest plan, just to personate Phil—change names and positions with him, until he is in a fit state to act for himself. No one over there has seen him since he was ten, so that my extra inches and more Saxon complexion cannot tell against me. Phil always says that his hair was light as a child. His eyes are brown, and mine, I suppose, are grey; I don’t think there is any danger there. His mother is dead; and nobody else would be likely to remember details. I know just as much as Phil does about his people and his affairs. I think I could play the part without any fear of betraying myself.’ Tor paced up and down reflectively. ‘I suppose it would be looked upon as a criminal fraud if detected, and would be punishable by law; but then only Phil could prosecute, and as soon as ever he comes to himself he will hear all, and then he can act for himself, whilst I shall abdicate in his favour. I don’t think, without Phil’s evidence, anyone could prove me an impostor. I think I can personate Philip Debenham without the least fear of detection.