Nothing of the kind. I did not deny it, and I told him at last to mind
his own business. Life up there was a little rough at that time.'

'So it seems, indeed. And then, after that?'

'I had given her money and she had some claims in a gold-mine. When she
was successful for a time she became so keen about her money that I
fancy she hardly wished to get herself married. Then we had some words,
and so we parted.'

'Did she call herself--Mrs. Caldigate?'

'I never called her so.'

'Did she herself assume the name?'

'It was a wild kind of life up there, Robert, and this was apparent in
nothing more than in the names people used. I daresay some of the
people did call her Mrs. Caldigate. But they knew she was not my wife.'

'And this man Crinkett?'

'He knew all about it.'

'He had a wife. Did his wife know her?'

'He had quarrelled with his wife at that time and had sent her away from
Nobble. Mrs. Smith was then living at Nobble, and Crinkett knew more
about her than I did. She was mad after gold, and it was with Crinkett
she was working. I gave her a lot of shares in another mine to leave
me.'

'What mine?'

'The Old Stick-in-the-Mud they called it. I had been in partnership with
Crinkett and wanted to get out of the thing, and go in altogether for
Polyeuka. At that time the woman cared little for husbands or lovers.
She had been bitten with the fury of gold-gambling and, like so many of
them, filled her mind with an idea of unlimited wealth. And she had a
turn of luck. I suppose she was worth at one time eight or ten thousand
pounds.'

'But she did not keep it?'

'I knew but little of her afterwards. I kept out of her way; and though
I had dealings with Crinkett, I dropped them as soon as I could.' Then
he paused,--but Robert Bolton held his peace with anything but a
satisfied countenance. 'Now I think you know all about it.'

'It is a most distressing story.'

'All attempts at robbery and imposition are of course distressing.'

'There is so much in it that is--disgraceful.'

'I deny it altogether,--if you mean disgraceful to me.'

'If it had all been known as it is known now,--as it is known even by
your own telling, do you think that I should have consented to your
marriage with my sister?'

'Why not?' Robert Bolton shrugged his shoulders. 'And I think,
moreover, that had you refused your consent I should have married your
sister just the same.'

'Then you know very little about the matter.'