The Great Impersonation | Page 8

circles of Society--perhaps, even, of political life. I shall be
able, if necessary, to remain in England even after the storm bursts."
"Supposing," the doctor suggested, "this man Dominey should return to
England?"
Von Ragastein turned his head and looked towards his questioner.
"He must not," he pronounced.
"So!" the doctor murmured.
Late in the afternoon of the following day, Dominey, with a couple of
boys for escort and his rifle slung across his shoulder, rode into the
bush along the way he had come. The little fat doctor stood and
watched him, waving his hat until he was out of sight. Then he called to
the orderly.

"Heinrich," he said, "you are sure that the Herr Englishman has the
whisky?"
"The water bottles are filled with nothing else, Herr Doctor," the man
replied.
"There is no water or soda water in the pack?"
"Not one drop, Herr Doctor."
"How much food?"
"One day's rations."
"The beef is salt?"
"It is very salt, Herr Doctor."
"And the compass?"
"It is ten degrees wrong."
"The boys have their orders?"
"They understand perfectly, Herr Doctor. If the Englishman does not
drink, they will take him at midnight to where His Excellency will be
encamped at the bend of the Blue River."
The doctor sighed. He was not at heart an unkindly man.
"I think," he murmured, "it will be better for the Englishman that he
drinks."
CHAPTER III
Mr. John Lambert Mangan of Lincoln's Inn gazed at the card which a
junior clerk had just presented in blank astonishment, an astonishment
which became speedily blended with dismay.

"Good God, do you see this, Harrison?" he exclaimed, passing it over
to his manager, with whom he had been in consultation. "Dominey--Sir
Everard Dominey--back here in England!"
The head clerk glanced at the narrow piece of pasteboard and sighed.
"I'm afraid you will find him rather a troublesome client, sir," he
remarked.
His employer frowned. "Of course I shall," he answered testily. "There
isn't an extra penny to be had out of the estates--you know that,
Harrison. The last two quarters' allowance which we sent to Africa
came out of the timber. Why the mischief didn't he stay where he was!"
"What shall I tell the gentleman, sir?" the boy enquired.
"Oh, show him in!" Mr. Mangan directed ill-temperedly. "I suppose I
shall have to see him sooner or later. I'll finish these affidavits after
lunch, Harrison."
The solicitor composed his features to welcome a client who, however
troublesome his affairs had become, still represented a family who had
been valued patrons of the firm for several generations. He was
prepared to greet a seedy-looking and degenerate individual, looking
older than his years. Instead, he found himself extending his hand to
one of the best turned out and handsomest men who had ever crossed
the threshold of his not very inviting office. For a moment he stared at
his visitor, speechless. Then certain points of familiarity--the well-
shaped nose, the rather deep-set grey eyes--presented themselves. This
surprise enabled him to infuse a little real heartiness into his welcome.
"My dear Sir Everard!" he exclaimed. "This is a most unexpected
pleasure--most unexpected! Such a pity, too, that we only posted a draft
for your allowance a few days ago. Dear me--you'll forgive my saying
so--how well you look!"
Dominey smiled as he accepted an easy chair.

"Africa's a wonderful country, Mangan," he remarked, with just that
faint note of patronage in his tone which took his listener back to the
days of his present client's father.
"It--pardon my remarking it--has done wonderful things for you, Sir
Everard. Let me see, it must be eleven years since we met."
Sir Everard tapped the toes of his carefully polished brown shoes with
the end of his walking stick.
"I left London," he murmured reminiscently, "in April, nineteen
hundred and two. Yes, eleven years, Mr. Mangan. It seems queer to
find myself in London again, as I dare say you can understand."
"Precisely," the lawyer murmured. "I was just wondering--I think that
last remittance we sent to you could be stopped. I have no doubt you
will be glad of a little ready money," he added, with a confident smile.
"Thanks, I don't think I need any just at present," was the amazing
answer. "We'll talk about financial affairs a little later on."
Mr. Mangan metaphorically pinched himself. He had known his
present client even during his school days, had received a great many
visits from him at different times, and could not remember one in
which the question of finance had been dismissed in so casual a
manner.
"I trust," he observed chiefly for the sake of saying something, "that
you are thinking of settling down here for a time now?"
"I have finished with Africa, if that is what