"Just a moment, please!" said Michael Petroff eagerly. "Yes, it is really an excellent idea," he continued rapidly, while his cheeks flushed with joy. "In my article I emphasize the fact that Dr. Maerz is an honorable man and a highly prized and respected physician, so that his conduct in this particular case causes widespread astonishment. I should like to ask you, my friend, what he will do when he reads this article? Ha, ha, ha! They will find out something, my dear fellow. I am not going to be unkind to him, not in the least. Well, in fact, in fact, I shall say, my dear Doctor, ha, ha! But just look at this too, in the _Non-Partisan_. Only look at this title, will you please!" "Which one--?" "Why, this one!" "An interrogation point?" "Yes! Ha, ha-- Simply an interrogation point! And beneath that: Where is Michael Petroff? An appeal to the public! But look at this, in the little _Feuilleton_: Michael Petroff, a Captain in the Russian army, has just completed his six-volume work on Shooting Stars. All the scientific journals are praising the clearness and acumen of this epoch-making work. Ha, ha, ha, didn't I tell you that there was news, my friend?" The lawyer crouched in the sofa corner and made such an effort to think, that he held his breath. "I don't understand--?" he whispered and slowly shook his head. "What don't you understand?" "That he should keep you in confinement." Michael Petroff glanced at the lawyer in surprise. Then he leaned forward and whispered: "But I have already told you that my relations pay him." "They pay him?" "Yes, of course!" answered Michael Petroff cheerfully. "Enormous sums. Millions!" "Oh!" The lawyer began to understand now. "Yes, you see, that is how it is in the world!" said Michael Petroff, and snapped his fingers. But the lawyer did not wholly comprehend yet. "I do not understand," he began again. "Dr. Maerz is so kindhearted. I live here, I have my home and my food and I pay nothing. He has never asked me for any money.--I have no money, you know," he ended anxiously in a still lower tone. Michael Petroff laid his hand pompously but protectingly on his friend's shoulder. "You work in the garden," said he, "you water the flowers. How could he have the face to expect you to pay money? That is perfectly simple. But perhaps you too have relations outside who pay for you?" "Relations?"