Hardy laughed and, the nurse returning to the room, bade him “good-bye” and departed. After the close atmosphere of the sick room the air was delicious, and he walked along slowly, deep in thought. From Nathan Smith his thoughts wandered to Jack Nugent and his unfortunate engagement, and from that to Kate Nugent. For months he had been revolving impossible schemes in his mind to earn her gratitude, and possibly that of the captain, by extricating Jack. In the latter connection he was also reminded of that unhappy victim of unrequited affection, Edward Silk. It was early to go indoors, and the house was dull. He turned and retraced his steps, and, his thoughts reverting to his sick partner, smiled as he remembered remarks which that irresponsible person had made at various times concerning the making of his last will and testament. Then he came to a sudden standstill as a wild, forlorn-hope kind of idea suddenly occurred to him. He stood for some time thinking, then walked a little way, and then stopped again as various difficulties presented themselves for solution. Finally, despite the lateness of the hour, he walked back in some excitement to the house he had quitted over half an hour before with the intention of speaking to the invalid concerning a duty peculiarly incumbent upon elderly men of means. The nurse, who came out of the sick room, gently closing the door after her, demurred a little to this second visit, but, receiving a promise from the visitor not to excite the invalid, left them together. The odour of the abominable physic was upon the air. “Well?” said the invalid. “I have been thinking that I was rather uncivil a little while ago,” said Hardy. “Ah!” said the other. “What do you want?” “A little of that skilled assistance you were speaking of.” Mr. Swann made an alarming noise in his throat. Hardy sprang forward in alarm, but he motioned him back. “I was only laughing,” he explained. Hardy repressed his annoyance by an effort, and endeavoured, but with scant success, to return the other’s smile. “Go on,” said the shipbroker, presently. “I have thought of a scheme for upsetting Nugent’s marriage,” said Hardy, slowly. “It is just a forlorn hope which depends for its success on you and Nathan Smith.” “He’s a friend of Kybird’s,” said the other, drily. “That is the most important thing of all,” rejoined Hardy. “That is, next to your shrewdness and tact; everything depends upon you, really, and whether you can fool Smith. It is a great thing in our favour that you have been taking him up lately.” “Are you coming to the point or are you not?” demanded the shipbroker. Hardy looked cautiously round the room, and then, drawing his chair close to the bed, leaned over the prostrate man and spoke rapidly into his ear. “_What?_” cried the astounded Mr. Swann, suddenly sitting up in his bed. “You—you scoundrel!” “It’s to be done,” said Hardy.