‘Pardon me, Signor; I think it is you who put me in an awkward position by your insinuations. I am sure you cannot mean to insult me; but if you will think the matter quietly over, you will see, I think, that what you would imply about me, is about as great an insult as one man can offer to another. You seem to me to suggest that I am playing an impostor’s part, living in my friend’s house, trading upon his fortune, adopting his name. Come, come, Signor Pagliadini, when one comes to put it all into plain words, I think you must see for yourself how utterly absurd and unfounded such an idea must be. Why, the thing would be impossible!’ ‘It has been done before now, I believe,’ answered the stranger. Tor drew himself up haughtily. ‘Do you mean to say that you accuse me of doing so great a wrong as this to my best friend?’ The stranger rose too, and faced Tor with sparkling eyes. ‘Will you give me your word of honour that you are not doing him a great wrong?’ ‘I will,’ answered Tor firmly; and he held his head proudly, as one who knows that he speaks the truth. ‘I give you my word of honour, as an Englishman and as a gentleman, that I have never wronged my friend even in thought. I would cut off my right hand sooner than commit a single act dishonourable to our old friendship!’ The Italian’s face softened somewhat, and he sat down again with what sounded like a sigh. ‘Signor,’ he said, with a slight bow, ‘I accept your word. I must accept such an asseveration as that. I have been taught to believe in an Englishman’s word, and I will try to do so.’ ‘I am obliged by your concession, Signor. It is not a pleasant thing to be doubted or suspected, however innocent one may be in reality. And now that you have done me the honour to believe me, I will point out to you how impossible your theory of imposture must be. If things were as you would have implied, why should Philip Debenham permit such a substitution of names and places? If I were an impostor, surely the true man would come forward and claim his own.’ Signor Pagliadini shot a quick look at him, and said: ‘Undoubtedly so—_if he could_.’ ‘What do you mean, Signor?’ ‘I understood your friend was ill.’ ‘Yes; so he is.’ ‘Perhaps that might account for his passive condition.’ Tor smiled, and shook his head. ‘Hardly likely, if you come to consider it.’ ‘We are not going to re-open the argument, Signor,’ said the Italian quietly. ‘I have told you I am satisfied by the pledge you have given me. Appearances are undoubtedly against you, but we all know that appearances are deceptive. Unless circumstances force me to a different conclusion, I shall accept the one I have already arrived at.’ ‘And in return, may I ask a personal favour from you?’ ‘Certainly.’ ‘May I ask you not to discuss with other people the circumstances which you deem so strange? I think you can see for yourself that to raise a doubt as to my identity would be at the present moment very unpleasant for me?’