"So they told you that lie; did they,—at 'Frisco?" asked Lefroy.
"That was what I heard over there when I was inquiring about your brother's death."
"You'd believe anything if you'd believe that."
"I'd believe anything if I'd believe in your cousin." Upon this Lefroy laughed, but made no further allusion to the romance which he had craftily invented on the spur of the moment. After that the two men sat without a word between them for a quarter of an hour, when the Englishman got up to take his leave. "Our business is over now," he said, "and I will bid you good-bye."
"I'll tell you what I'm athinking," said Lefroy. Mr. Peacocke stood with his hand ready for a final adieu, but he said nothing. "I've half a mind to go back with you to England. There ain't nothing to keep me here."
"What could you do there?"
"I'd be evidence for you, as to Ferdy's death, you know."
"I have evidence. I do not want you."
"I'll go, nevertheless."
"And spend all your money on the journey."