"Yes," Duncan admitted, half-persuaded of the plausibility of the
scheme. "I see--and I admire immensely the intellect that conceived the
notion, Harry. But ... I can't help thinking there must be a catch in
it somewhere."

"Not if you follow my instructions. You see, having come from just such
a hole-in-the-ground, I know just what I'm talking about. Believe me,
everything depends on the way you go about it. There are a lot of
things to contend with at first; you won't enjoy it at all, to begin
with. But I can demonstrate how it can be managed so that you'll win
out to a moral certainty."

Duncan drew a deep breath, sat back and looked Kellogg over very
critically. There was not a suspicion of a gleam of humour in his face;
to the contrary, it blazed with the ardour of the instinctive schemer,
the man who, with the ability to originate, throws himself heart and
soul into the promotion of the product of his imagination. Kellogg was
not sketching the outlines of a gigantic practical joke; he believed
implicitly in the feasibility of his project; and so strongly that he
could infuse even the less susceptible fancy of Duncan with some of his
faith.

"If I didn't know you so well, Harry," said Duncan slowly, "I'd be
certain you were mad. I'm not at all sure that I'm sane. It's raving
idiocy--and it's a pretty damned rank thing to do, to start
deliberately out to marry a woman for her money. But I've been through
a little hell of my own in my time, and--it's not alluring to
contemplate a return to it. There's nothing mad enough nor bad enough
to stop me. What've I got to do?"