He was meditating vengeance.  Love and hate, matrimony and murder, are sometimes not far asunder, but Frank was not by nature vengeful; he had that “foolish hanging of the nether lip which shows a lack of decision.”

I would not advise any man to seek in a law court a sovereign remedy for the wounds inflicted by the shafts of Cupid; but Frank tried it.  During his examination in chief his mien was gloomy and his answers brief.

Then Mr. Aspinall rose and said:  “I appear for the defendant, your Honour, but from press of other engagements I have been unable to give that attention to the legal aspects of this case which its importance demands, and I have to request that your Honour will be good enough to adjourn the court for a quarter of an hour.”

The court was adjourned for half an hour, and Mr. Aspinall and his solicitor retired to a room for a legal consultation.  It began thus: 

“I say, Lane, fetch me a nobbler of brandy; a stiffener, mind.”

Lane fetched the stiffener in a soda-water bottle, and it cleared the legal atmosphere.

When the court resumed business, Frank took his stand in the witness box, and a voice said:  “Now, Mr. Barlow, look at me.”

Frank had been called many names in his time, but never “Mr. Barlow” before now.  He looked and saw the figure of a little man with a large head, whose voice came through a full-grown nose like the blast of a trumpet.

“You say you gave Cecily some money, a horse, saddle, and bridle?”

“I did.”

“And you bought a wedding ring?”

“I’ve got it in my pocket.”

“I see.  Your Honour will be glad to hear that the ring, at any rate, is not lost.  It will be ready for another Cecily, won’t it, Mr. Barlow?”

Barlow, looking down on the floor of the court and shaking his head slowly from side to side, said: 

“No, it won’t No fear.  There ’ull be no more Cecilies for me.”

There was laughter in the court, and when Frank raised his eyes, and saw a broad grin on every face, he, too, burst into a fit of laughter.

I saw Mr. Aspinall and Dr. Macadam walking together arm-in-arm from the court.  The long doctor and the little lawyer were a strange pair.  Everybody knew that they were sliding down the easy slope to their tragic end, but they seemed never to think of it.

Frank returned to Nyalong, happier than either.  He related the particulars of the trial to his friends with the utmost cheerfulness.  Whether he recovered all the worldly goods with which he had endowed Cecily is doubtful, but he faithfully kept his promise that “There ’ull be no more Cecilies for me.”

There was a demon of mischief at work on Philip’s hill at both sides of the dividing fence.  Sam was poisoned by a villainous butcher; Bruin had been killed by Hugh Boyle; Maggie had eloped with a wild native to a gum-tree; Joey had been eaten by Pussy; Barlow had been crossed in love, and then the crowning misfortune befell the hermit.