Phil knew nothing of his likeness to his family, and was not man of the world enough to see that his own knowledge and recollection of the events of his childhood and of his native place, as opposed to Tor’s ignorance, would go far towards making good his case, were it brought before competent authority. He could only see at present that it would be his bare word, against Tor’s word backed by all the credentials which should have been his. He knew Tor would be no mean opponent, and his heart sank at the thought of a hand-to-hand fight. No, he must go disguised, whilst Tor believed him still in Germany, and then he would try to read the riddle; and if he dared, he would confront his false friend face to face, and wrest the truth from him by threat, or by sheer force of justice. But this plan of escape involved the co-operation of the German doctor, in whose care he had been left; and it might be a difficult, even a dangerous matter to secure it. However, Phil was not without a certain dogged obstinacy of his own, and he determined that he would at least make a bold attempt, and trust to chance for success. Upon the following day, when the doctor visited him, he received him with wide-open eyes, and a look of quiet comprehension, which sent the little man into a silent ecstasy of delight. ‘Dr. Schneeberger,’ began Phil, after he had calmly and rationally replied to some dozen searching questions, ‘will you sit down for a few minutes and listen to something of importance that I have to say?’ ‘Certainly, my dear sir, certainly. I am only too delighted. What news this will be for your good friend! I think I ought to send him a telegram at once to inform him.’ ‘Not just yet, if you please, doctor,’ said Phil quietly; ‘I want you first to hear what I have to say to you.’ ‘I will listen to anything, so long as you do not too greatly fatigue yourself.’ ‘I will be careful not to do so. Now, doctor, I am going to ask you a few questions. Was I not brought here several weeks ago by a tall, good-looking Englishman, who gave his name as Debenham? And did he not inform you that my name was Torwood?’ Dr. Schneeberger nodded his head. ‘Certainly—exactly. You have accurately stated the case.’ ‘And did he, or did he not, warn you that when I recovered my senses, I should be under the impression that _my_ name was Debenham?’ The doctor stared. ‘Well—ah! let me see—well, yes, he certainly did give me some such warning; but I cannot imagine how you came to know it.’ He was looking very curiously at his patient, as if to detect some new and strange phenomenon in his case. But Phil confronted him with an unwavering eye, and spoke on connectedly and quietly. ‘I know it, or guessed it, from what I know of the circumstances which surround me, and from what I heard and remarked whilst I seemed to you to be still unconscious.’ ‘You have recovered, then, gradually?’ cried the doctor eagerly. ‘It was not the work of a moment?’