"You are out of your senses."
"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."
"What is the use? I have no pen and ink."
"Ha ha, my honest comrade, I have provided for that. I had just enough brains to think of the contingency. Here are the requisites. Now, fill in and sign. Date it two days ago."
There was a brute ferocity in Dr. Peterssen which compelled and overawed Leonard, and with a sullen look he wrote the check and signed it.
"I warrant," said Dr. Peterssen, examining the check narrowly and carefully pocketing it, "that you have feathered your nest pretty well. In the event of Gerald Paget leaving a widow behind him--though that will not be so in this case, Leonard, for there can be no widow where there was no wife--you could strip her of every farthing of ready cash by drawing the entire balance from the bank, dating the check yesterday, as a measure of precaution. Hush--they are coming! Behind this rock--crouch down, and don't so much as breathe!"
Almost breathless Gerald and George Street halted within two feet of them, standing side by side on the edge of a precipice.
"It makes me dizzy looking down," said George Street. "Does it not you?"
"No," said Gerald. "And we have not found the edelweiss after all. It is a great disappointment to me."
"It grows on the edge of the precipice," said George Street. "Let us kneel and look over. I am sure this was the spot Dr. Peterssen pointed out to me."