He could hardly be an emissary of Belassis. If that worthy had discovered the imposition practised by Tor, he would not have any need to bring forward a foreigner to expose the fraud. A much simpler and more effective way would be to expose it himself, which could be done, without any great difficulty if once the clue had been secured.
It was improbable to the last degree that a stranger, totally unconcerned in the matter, should give himself all the trouble Signor Pagliadini was now doing, simply from an abstract love of justice; yet, if not a creature of Belassis, nor yet a total stranger, who could this man possibly be?
Miss Marjory was a shrewd woman; and although her quick wits often led her to conclusions for which no logical premises could be adduced, these same conclusions had a remarkable way of turning out right in the end, and therefore she had learned to put a greater confidence in them than circumstances seemed always to warrant.
No stranger, Miss Marjory argued, who had simply known these two Englishmen abroad, would care two straws about the matter, even if he did find out that they had made an exchange of names. He would either think that he had been mistaken the first time as to their identity, or else he would conclude that one was acting for the other, and would never dream of interfering. Englishmen were all more or less mad, he would conclude, and were best let alone.
Signor Pagliadini evidently knew of the existence of the real Phil, and concluded, not unnaturally, that an unfair advantage was being taken of his helplessness. But why he should interest himself in the matter, and take Phil’s supposed quarrel upon himself, was a question which was hard to answer, and the only theory she could form was conclusively negatived by Tor.
She suggested to him the doubt, whether it was possible that Philip Debenham had had a momentary return of consciousness, and had gained some vague idea of what was going on. Might he not (feeling himself helpless and injured) have believed himself to be a prisoner, and enlisted the aid of some able-bodied friend to go and discover the true state of the case, and do what he could for the absent master, who was being thus defrauded?
But Tor smiled at such a notion.
Phil and he understood one another far too well for such a doubt to be possible. Eighteen years of close friendship could stand a stronger test than this. If Phil had recovered enough to realize that Tor had changed their names, he would understand in a moment that there was some good reason for such an act, and would fall into the arrangement with the confiding placidity of his nature. Besides, the thing was impossible. The German doctor, who was the simplest-minded of men, had promised to give Tor immediate warning of any change in his friend’s condition. He and his sister were the only people who had been near Phil these three months past, until he had taken the journey; and he knew for certain that there had been no return to sensibility. The whole thing was too improbable to be seriously discussed. The idea that Phil could for a moment misunderstand him brought a smile to Tor’s face.
‘If you had seen the way the dear boy leaned on me, copied me, all but worshipped me, for eighteen years, you would know as well as I do, that he would be utterly incapable of mistrusting me, far less of setting a spy upon me. It was very absurd of him to make such a paragon of me; but he did it, and the traditions of years are not overset in a few days. Besides, I saw Phil a fortnight ago, and the poor fellow was just as senseless as a log. If my voice could not rouse him then, I’m convinced nothing else could do so within the next ten days. By the end of that time he was on the seas. I wish now that he were not.’
So that idea of Miss Marjory’s had to be abandoned, and she was puzzled to find a substitute.