"I don't like this want of confidence on your part, Graham," he said, the following day. "Not that I want to pry into a lover's secrets by any means, but our trial, as you well know, takes place in a few days, and I think, as being the leader of this expedition, recognised as such by common consent, and the duty of defending ourselves rightly falling on me, every fact that might be of service to us should be known to me, as well as any adverse circumstances that may resolve into evidence against us, so that I may be prepared to meet it." "Doctor," Graham answered, "I admit the justness of your remarks, but am sorry I cannot disclose what took place last night. The honour of the woman I love is involved; but, rest assured, I am quite prepared to defend my conduct if called upon to do so. Believe me, nothing whatever was said respecting our position, nor did I obtain any information likely to be of service to us." "But did you really see and speak to Volinè last night?" asked Temple. "I admit that I did. Now, do rest content with that, there's good fellows; and be assured that I am doing the best I can for us all. This ring I wear upon my finger was given to me by her, with the solemn assurance that it was a talisman against evil." "Fudge, Graham; you must be deep in love to believe such nonsense," said the Doctor, testily. "Nonsense or not, Doctor, you see I wear it, and what is more, am inclined to believe in its virtues. It may be but a lover's trifle; but some strange instinct, call it superstition if you like, makes me feel that it will yet be of service to us." "Well, it is my unbroken experience that if discord or trouble comes, a woman is invariably at the bottom of it." And with this parting shot the Doctor walked away to study his note-book. "What a prejudice the Doctor has against the ladies, Graham!" said Temple. "Why, he is a regular woman-hater. Depend upon it, some girl broke his heart in the long ago." "It is his only failing, and he is to be pitied more than blamed," Graham answered. Kaosp entered at this moment. His face wore a grave look, and he was unusually silent. Graham alone guessed the cause; for he had no doubt whatever that what took place within the garden on the previous night was now known to him, although he never alluded to it in any way. He did not stay long, and after enquiring about our health, and various little matters, he shook each one of us by the hand, as was his custom now every time he went away. This mode of salutation greatly took his fancy, after we had explained it to him, and he seemed proud of his new accomplishment. When Graham's turn to shake hands with him came, he started in surprise, and, drawing back, exclaimed: