Ladywell was a name well known to Phil. The Manor House had been his ideal of all a house should be, from his childhood’s days, when he and little Maud had played in secluded corners of the park. The old uncle, who was regarded as something of an ogre, to be feared and avoided, was only dimly remembered; but Phil had always known that he was his great-uncle’s natural heir, and with the buoyant hopefulness of his nature, had entertained a dim expectation that the property might, by some lucky chance, come to him, either by testamentary bequest, or (in absence of will) as heir-at-law. Evidently this is what had taken place. The old man had died. The property had come to him, and Tor, forgetting under pressure of temptation all his old honour and uprightness, had taken advantage of Phil’s helplessness, and of the fact that he was a perfect stranger to his own relations, and had claimed the inheritance as his own, calmly transferring his own name and personality to his unconscious friend, and adopting Phil’s instead. Phil writhed in helpless irritation and dismay when the whole force of the situation broke upon him. He had no clue to Tor’s real motive; naturally it did not occur to him to imagine it. He could think of nothing but the treacherous way in which he had been defrauded, and of what possible steps he could take to free himself from the net which had been cast about him. One thing was self-evident. He must remain in a state of apparent insensibility for the present. If he betrayed one gleam of consciousness, Tor would be summoned; and once let Tor’s strong hand close over him, and Phil knew that he should be powerless. He had not lived eighteen years in close company, without knowing Tor’s strength of will and purpose; and he knew that in an open struggle he would simply be crushed. Tor’s word, not his, would be believed; and if he were to be resolute in his declaration that he was Philip Debenham, he might, for all he knew, be housed in a madhouse before many days were over. It was a terrible suspicion, and quite sufficed to keep up all Phil’s determination to remain quiet until he had matured some plan of escape. From time to time some of the old loving confidence in Tor would assert itself, and Phil would be half tempted to have him summoned, and learn from his own lips how it was that he had acted thus; but then again doubts and fears filled his mind, and the risk seemed too great a one to run.