"You are. And when I have done with you, you shall place _me_ in the witness-box, and I will be frank with you. It is best for men like ourselves to be friends, Leonard. Who knows? We may be able to serve each other. Allow me to remind you that you are in my debt. Our last transaction in Ballarat was when we laid a snare to sell a man of substance a golden claim. The price was five thousand pounds. The stuff at the bottom of the shaft was salted--with gold purchased with my money. At that time you had none--that is, you said you had none; so I expended my last fifty pounds in the purchase of twelve ounces, which we distributed cunningly in the wash-dirt below. The plant almost came off, but it was discovered one moment too soon. We had only to fly; and then we lost sight of each other. You did not wait to pay the half of the fifty pounds--a shabby trick." From his pocket-book Leonard extracted twenty-five pounds in bank notes, which he handed to Dr. Peterssen. "I am out of your debt." "Not at all. There is the interest, which I shall not exact to-night, but in the future, from time to time. You pay so readily that you are worth sticking to; you think so lightly of twenty-five pounds that you must be rolling in money. Back to my questions. You are not alone?" "I am not." "Shall we say, a lady? Ah, fortunate man! Susceptible heart! Forever putting itself into chains. There was a lady on the other side. And there is a lady on this. I see it in your face.", "She is none of mine; she is one of our party." "How many in all?" "I am sick of your questions. Here is the plain truth. I am travelling with my brother and his wife. They are on their honeymoon. There, you have the whole thing in a nutshell." "Apparently. But how about the kernel? I have an odd idea there is a maggot inside. How arrived at? Easily. It is you yourself who have engendered the suspicion. You come to this spot to think and smoke, leaving your brother and his bride to their honeymooning. That is considerate, and as a tender-souled man I commend you for it. You believe yourself to be alone, but I am here, communing with Nature. Looking up, I see you, and on your face I see that which you would not like your friends to see. There is a convulsive twitch in your features. What is the cause? Do you love your brother's wife?" "No." "The tone in which you speak that little word convinces me that you hate her. Do you remember we used to congratulate each other in Australia that we could read men's faces and voices? Why do you hate her? There must be a reason." "Peterssen, you are going a little too far."