Thus urged, Leonard related everything he knew concerning Gerald and Emilia. Dr. Peterssen laughed, and instilled into Leonard's ear certain counsel which Leonard was only too ready to follow. It was a risk, but as Dr. Peterssen said, the reward was worth it.
In a couple of hours they had reached the spot they had been making for. They had not met a soul on the way, and they saw nothing of Gerald and George Street.
"They will come into view in half an hour or so," said Dr. Peterssen, "and if not we will go and hurry them up."
They had halted on a wild spot. They were surrounded by enormous glaciers, and all around them lay dangerous precipices. At a dozen points an unsuspicious man might be pushed without effort into abysses where he would be almost certain to meet with death. It was this infernal plan which Dr. Peterssen had conceived, and which Leonard guessed at, but was too timid to ask about. Easy to carry out a bloody deed in such a place, without a living witness to bring evidence against them.
He pulled out a flask of brandy, and gave it to Leonard. The treacherous friend took a long drink. Dr. Peterssen also drank, but more sparingly.
"If I don't mistake," he said, "you have a check book in your pocket."
"Everything. Answer my questions. You are acting as your brother's treasurer."
"The bank in which his money is deposited has written instructions to that effect."
"Easy, Mr. Paget, easy. Do you know that I am about to lose a patient?"
"But for your ends. Now, I want a guarantee. I had a little private conversation with your step-brother yesterday, in which I skilfully pumped him. What do you think I learned? That you had been realizing a quantity of valuable securities for him lately, and that there was a very considerable balance at the bank to his credit."
"All in your interest, Leonard, and a little, a very little, in my own. You will give me here, and now, a check for two thousand pounds."
"Most absolutely and positively in them, my dear fellow. What I am about to do for you is worth ten times the sum, so I am not hard on you. In brains, Leonard, you have the best of me--I am a very candid and honest scoundrel, you must admit--but when the pinch comes you lose your nerve. Take another pull at the brandy. Down with it, man. It will bring some color to your cheeks, and perhaps some false courage to your chicken heart. We--fellows like myself--are the real men. If I had lived three or four centuries ago I should have been a man of mark. Produce your check-book."