Having effectually disposed of Sir Digby for a time, Richards could
afford to quietly await the turn of events. His practice had been sharp,
but it was certainly justifiable. He had often hinted to his partner
Keane, nay, even told him plainly, that the baronet was but a man of
straw.

"Owes a few thousands perhaps," Keane had replied, with an
ill-concealed sneer. "They all do it. A post-obit would clear that up.
His brother can't live for ever. Sir Digby will be a lord, you know, on
his brother's death."

"I'll tell you what," Richards had gone so far as to exclaim one day:
"if I were you I'd pay Digby's debts for him. Ten thou., I reckon, would
do it. But I shouldn't marry my only daughter to a beggar!"

Keane turned on him sharply.

"Richards," he said, as calmly as he could, "I knew a gentleman once who
made an immense fortune by a very simple process."

"Indeed; how?"

"By minding his own business." Then Keane cackled over his ledger.
Richards said no more. But the idea of Keane, of all men, paying off a
future son-in-law's debts was too absurd.

When Richards went to Keane's house a few days after Digby's
incarceration, he found his partner in the throes of packing. He was
going to Italy for a time with Gerty, and of course Mary would accompany
her.

Months went by, and many a long delightful letter did Richards receive
from Gerty, and from Mary too, the latter always ending with "luv and
sweet kisses." Then came a final letter. They were coming home. Alas!
the ship never reached England. She was captured by a Don, and all were
made prisoners. Keane could have bought his liberty if he had cared to.
He preferred to wait, and waiting--died.

A few weeks afterwards poor lonely Gerty returned, and Mary. Richards
constituted himself Miss Keane's guardian. Indeed it had been Keane's
last wishes that he should do so. And, strange to say, the ruling
passion had manifested itself strongly in death; for by the help of a
priest he had written a letter to Richards, praying him, for the sake of
their long acquaintanceship and friendship, to see that Gerty married
Sir Digby. He died, he said, peacefully, knowing she would yet be Lady
Auld.

"A dying man's last request," said Richards to himself, "ought to be
attended to; but--"

Then he solemnly placed the letter in the fire, and it was cremated.

Sir Digby made himself as comfortable as possible in the Fleet. Richards
did not think it safe he should come out.