I did not know it was
possible that I could be so deceived; besides, I am in the dark about
everything. Tell me, old man, tell me everything. That's right, don't
put on that fez again. I can see you better without that. I remember the
shape of the head now. Yes, and keep to your old voice, my friend--it
helps me to feel I am on solid ground. Now then, tell me what happened."

"Winfield, I trust you. You were the only man who was faithful to me in
the old days. You will be faithful still. Nothing that you have
discovered, nothing that I shall tell you shall pass your lips, until I
tell you that you may speak."

"I promise that, my friend. Nothing shall pass my lips--not a hint, not
a suggestion."

The other put on his fez again. "That is understood, then," he said
quietly. He spoke in the old fluid tones which he had adopted since he
came to Vale Linden. "I say, Winfield, look at me again. I never forget,
never--mind that."

For a moment Winfield had a feeling like fear. Perhaps it was because he
had not yet recovered from the shock he had received.

"We will speak of Radford Leicester in the third person, if you please.
I am still Signor Ricordo, mind that. Think of me as such till I tell
you otherwise. Signor Abdul Ricordo, partner in the great Tripoli
trading company, eh?" and he bowed to the other ceremoniously. "I am
acting my part still. Presently I will change my attire and my part;
then I will be what I was. Well, you wish to know about Radford
Leicester. I will tell you. Yes, he did contemplate suicide; but little
as he loved life, he loved it too much to put an end to it. Besides, he
feared what lay beyond what we call death. Is any man an atheist, _amico
mio_? I think not. One night, while standing by Blackfriars Bridge,
thinking of what would happen if he gave himself to the river, he saw a
dead body washed on the steps. It was a bright night, and he saw that
the man's face was unrecognisable; moreover, he saw that the thing had
once been what is called a gentleman. Then a plan was born in his mind.
After making sure that there were no marks of identification on what he
saw--well, you see the rest. Radford Leicester read his own obituary
notices. Ha! my friend, they were pleasant reading. He even went to his
own funeral. He saw you there. Thank you, Winfield, for paying your last
respects to your friend."

Winfield wiped the perspiration from his brow; it was many years since
he had been so much moved