At this point his eye fell upon a letter. It was one of the documents in the Case; in fact, it was the letter from Australia which came with John Dunning’s memorandum. By accident it had not been put away with the rest. He read the superscription on the seal: “John Dunning’s Sons.” “John Dunning’s Sons?” he asked. “John Dunning’s Sons?” “It’s an old story. Your grandfather helped John Dunning in early life.” Leonard took out the letter. “His family write to express the gratitude--a post-mortem gratitude--of the late John Dunning to the family generally. Would you like to read it?” Uncle Fred read it. His jovial face became grave--even austere in thoughtfulness. He folded the letter and put it in his pocket. “By your leave,” he said. “My dear boy, the Dunnings are the richest people in the colony. I am a made man. Their gratitude simply warms my heart. It inspires once more the old youthful belief in human nature. With this letter--with this introduction--Barlow Brothers vanish. Damn the sardine boxes! Fred Campaigne returns to Australia, and Fortune smiles. My boy, farewell. With this letter in my pocket, I start to-morrow.” “Stop, stop!” cried Leonard. “How about the colossal business? How about the saving of that important shanty where you dispensed sardines?” Uncle Fred looked at his watch. “But you say that you have saved it--how?” “I have just time”--again he looked at his watch--“to keep--ah! a most important appointment. I shall go out to Australia next week. On the way out I will amuse myself by writing you an account of the Barlow Brothers--in several chapters--The Conception, The First Box of Sardines, The Shanty, the Realisation, the Millionaire. Novels would not be more thrilling.” “But you abandon this Colossal undertaking?” “I give it up. Why? Because an easier way lies open. I should be more than human if I did not take the easier way.” “You are going out to Mr. Dunning with that letter in your pocket?” “I am, going, sir, to throw myself into the arms of gratitude. Human Nature! Human Nature! How lovely a thing is Human Nature when it is grateful!” Leonard grunted. “I am not sure,” he said, “that I did right in giving you that letter.” “You can have it back again. I know the contents. And now, my dear nephew, there is but one small duty to perform--I allude to the Hotel Bill. My brother has found the passage-money--Christopher was always a selfish beast, but his language at parting with that money was inexcusable. He refuses the Hotel Bill.” “And so you come to me. Why should I pay your Hotel Bill?” “There is no reason that I know of except the fact that I have referred the Hotel Clerk to you as a Member of Parliament and a gentleman.” “You come home boasting of your wealth, being next door to penniless.” “You forget--the Accumulations----” “And you end with the confession that you were lying.”