It was on a warm, spring morning in April that Marjorie Dale and Captain James Crichton were quietly married at Princetown, within sight of the prisons which had played such a strange and important part in their lives. Erstwhile Convict 381 was Captain Crichton’s best man. As soon as the happy pair had left for the honeymoon—destination unknown—Patterson, Rupert, and John Dale returned to Blackthorn Farm, and over mugs of old brown ale again drank their health. The farmhouse itself remained unchanged, but outside there was a scene of desolation. The mine, which a few months ago had been a scene of activity, was now deserted. It was a blot on the beautiful moorlands. Though the great plant still remained, silence now brooded. "Best thing you can do, Dale," Patterson said, "is to come out East again and bring your father with you." "Take my boy," the old man whispered, "he’ll succeed there, I know. The old country’s played out, I’m afraid. But I—I’m too old now. I’d only be a drag upon him." But Rupert shook his head and laughed. "I’m not going to desert you, guv’nor. We’ve been parted long enough. And, what’s more, I’m not going to desert the old farm, or the rotten old mine, as far as that goes. After all, I’m responsible, for I made the discovery of pitch-blende and got the radium idea in my head." "What will happen to the property now?" Patterson asked. And old Dale explained just how matters stood. He was the largest shareholder and he had not parted with a single share. They had been quoted that day on the Stock Exchange at threepence! "Seems to me the scare came at the very moment that hope was held out that radium would be extracted," Patterson said. "I was talking to one of the fellows who had made the first report on it the other day, a German, I daresay you remember him, Mr. Dale. He backed out of it because he objected to Mr. Despard and certain other men who were behind the scenes. He says he is perfectly certain there is radium and that it can be extracted. I don’t pretend to know much about the subject, but I’d like to have a look round to-morrow morning, and it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get hold of this fellow—Swartz is his name—and see what he has to say. By jove, I’ve put away a bit of money, and I’d just like to gamble! Think of picking up a few thousand shares in a radium mine in England at threepence a piece. Gee whiz!" And that is just what Mr. Patterson did. Mr. Swartz was called in, and on his advice the company was reconstructed. Sir Reginald Crichton and John Dale held on to their shares and even bought a few more. The new company took over the whole concern, buying it at a merely nominal price.