"You lie," said Dr. Peterssen, with a brutal laugh. "With my own eyes I saw you hurl your step-brother over the precipice. In the attempt to save himself he caught hold of my poor patient, but he was just one little minute too late. Instead of saving himself he destroyed his companion, and thus at one fell swoop I was robbed of three hundred a year. I, with a record at least as spotless as your own--we are a fine pair of white doves, you and I--am ready to take my Bible oath to this version of the catastrophe; and I'll bet you a hundred to one, my buck, that I swear you down in any court of justice you can name. A likely thing, isn't it, that I should wish to get rid of my poor patient, when by doing so I lose a sure income? You, on the contrary, have everything to gain by your step-brother's death. Dying unmarried--you understand?" "Yes." "You have only to be firm with Emilia and the point is carried. After what she has gone through, and plunged into despair as she will be, she can be made to believe anything, especially when she learns that you are prepared to behave generously to her. To resume, Gerald, dying unmarried, you come into all the property. Therefore his death is a distinctly desirable event in your eyes. Do not, therefore, my dear comrade, in this little affair, attempt to shirk your share of the responsibility, or I will throw it all upon your shoulders, and send you to the gallows. Mr. Leonard Paget, I should be inclined to call you a fool if I did not know you better. What is done cannot be undone, nor, with all your cant, would you wish it undone." "But," said Leonard, inwardly acknowledging the weight of his companion's arguments, "we are in danger."