Caldigate no doubt was subject to troubles of which she knew nothing.  It was quite clear to him that Mr. Seely, his own lawyer, did in truth believe that there had been some form of marriage between him and Euphemia Smith.  The attorney had never said so much,—­had never accused him.  It would probably have been opposed to all the proprieties in such a matter that any direct accusation should have been made against him by his own attorney.  But he could understand from the man’s manner that his mind was not free from a strong suspicion.  Mr. Seely was eager enough as to the defence; but seemed to be eager as against opposing evidence rather than on the strength of evidence on his own side.  He was not apparently desirous of making all the world know that such a marriage certainly never took place; but that, whether such a marriage had taken place or not, the jury ought not to trust the witnesses.  He relied, not on the strength of his own client, but on the weakness of his client’s adversaries.  It might probably be capable of proof that Crinkett and Adamson and the woman had conspired together to get money from John Caldigate; and if so, then their evidence as to the marriage would be much weakened.  And he showed himself not averse to any tricks of trade which might tend to get a verdict.  Could it be proved that John Crinkett had been dishonest in his mining operations?  Had Euphemia Smith allowed her name to be connected with that of any other man in Australia?  What had been her antecedents?  Was it not on the cards that Allan, the minister, had never undergone any ceremony of ordination?  And, if not, might it not be shown that a marriage service performed by him would be no marriage service at all?  Could not the jury be made to think,—­or at least some of the jury,—­that out there, in that rough lawless wilderness, marriage ceremonies were very little understood?  These were the wiles to which he seemed disposed to trust; whereas Caldigate was anxious that he should instruct some eloquent indignant advocate to declare boldly that no English gentleman could have been guilty of conduct so base, so dastardly, and so cruel!  ‘You see, Mr. Caldigate,’ the lawyer said on one occasion, ’to make the best of it, our own hands are not quite clean.  You did promise the other lady marriage.’

’No doubt.  No doubt I was a fool; and I paid for my folly.  I bought her off.  Having fallen into the common scrape,—­having been pleased by her prettinesses and clevernesses and women’s ways,—­I did as so many other men have done.  I got out of it as best I could without treachery and without dishonour.  I bought her off.  Had she refused to take my money, I should probably have married her,—­and probably have blown my brains out afterwards.  All that has to be acknowledged,—­much to my shame.  Most of us would have to blush if the worst of our actions were brought out before us in a court of law.  But there was an end of it.  Then they come over here and endeavour to enforce their demand for money by a threat.’