And then he flung himself into a chair, and laughed till the tears stood in his eyes. Phil stood gazing at him, feeling more and more like one who dreams, not knowing what to say, or what line of conduct to assume. ‘You young villain!’ cried Tor, as soon as he could speak, and he shook his fist at Phil with an expression that defies description. ‘You young villain! you dare play me such a trick as that! You deserve to be hung, drawn, and quartered; and I’d string you up in two seconds if I weren’t so glad to see you back. What have you got to say for yourself, you scamp!—worrying honest folks almost out of their senses with your dark sayings and sinister looks? And to think it was Phil Debenham all the time! Ye gods! What will Miss Marjory say? I shall be a laughing-stock to her for evermore. Phil, you rascal, I’ll never forgive you!’ And Tor laughed again more heartily than before; and after a long effort at dignified composure and coldness, old habit triumphed, and Phil’s gravity gave way. He sat down opposite Tor and laughed with him until both were fairly tired. ‘Tor, old man,’ he said at last, ‘I can’t understand things yet; but it’s borne in upon me that I’ve been a most infernal fool.’ ‘It’s a way you have, dear boy, when left to your own devices,’ answered Tor genially. ‘I’d never have believed you could have played any game long, which I shouldn’t detect; but how could I guess, when I believed you safe on board the _Medusa_? I can’t make out how you did it, nor why. Phil, my boy, if you only knew how I’ve longed for you, and worried myself nearly into a fever, you’d never be able to say enough of my goodness and generosity! Why did you keep me a moment longer in such a position than was necessary? I should feel inclined to shake the life out of you, only this makes up for everything.’ ‘Tor,’ said Phil, ‘I’ve been such a consummate ass that I don’t know how to tell you.’ ‘Let’s come downstairs and smoke,’ said Tor. ‘I’m sure we shan’t have done talking this side midnight. I’ll mix some whisky punch, and we’ll make a night of it. I’ll do the honours of your house for this one night, old boy; and to-morrow, thank goodness, I’ll resume my own personality and my humble name. Phil,’ and he seized his friend’s hand and shook it nearly off, ‘you can’t have a notion how glad I am to see you again!’ They went down to Tor’s ‘den.’ On the way thither, Tor took the opportunity to slip a piece of folded paper under Miss Marjory’s door. The paper bore these words: ‘It’s all right. Phil has come back. Look out for larks to-morrow morning.—T. T.’ ‘What a comfort it is to sign one’s own name again!’ he thought, as he wrote the two T’s. ‘This is like old times,’ said Tor, a quarter of an hour later, as the two sat together with pipes and punch. ‘Well, Phil, how do you feel in your capacity as monarch of all you survey? Are you as glad to reign as I am to abdicate?’