"They are yours, Anne. You are his lawful wife--soon, doubtless, you will be his executrix. He has still money about him, which I make no doubt the skipper of the _Nederland_ will appropriate. He will land a beggar. Heaven help him!" "You say that?" Anne exclaimed, "Heaven help him! Help him who ruined you. You can say that?" "No," he cried savagely. "No. I do not say it. I retract. Damn him! he forged Lord Glastonbury's name, but passed the bill to me, since he owed me one-half the sum, and I paid it into Child's bank. Then, when Glastonbury caused me to be arrested on board the ship I served in, and I stated where I had obtained the bill, that craven hound now going to his fate swore he knew nought about it--that my story was a fabrication. But that his lordship and I loved the same woman, and she sacrificed herself to save my neck--unknown to me--as well as paid the money to the bankers, I should have swung at Tyburn." "Wherefore," said Anne, "you forgave him for the time--with an end in view." "With an end in view. An end, my determination to reach which never slackened. And it is reached. Anne, it is borne in on me that he will never come back. If he does, then----" "He never will return," said Anne. "It is also borne in on me. Now let us go," and she moved towards the door, throwing over her the great cloak which she had removed after the drawer had quitted the room, and replacing the hat. "You have forgotten the guineas," said Granger, noticing that she had let them lie unheeded where he had originally placed them. "The guineas!" the girl cried. "The guineas! His money! I will never take them--never touch them. Except," she cried, seizing on the packet, "to fling them into the river. Never! Never!" "Be not foolish. They are yours. Can you devise no means to which you can put them?" "Ay," she said a moment later, and after thinking deeply while she stood gazing down at the table. "Ay, I can. Kitty's grave is a lonely, desolate one. Now it shall be brightened and made cheerful with the money of the man who drove her to death. Come," and as she spoke she took the packet and dropped it into her pocket. "Come, I must get back." So Lewis Granger took the girl back to Brunswick Stairs and sent her off by a shore boat to the _Mignonne_, he learning on shore, and she when she, stepped on board the frigate, that Sir Geoffrey had set out an hour ago to board the _Nederland_, so as to take from out of her some of the men who were now so much required. "For," said Ariadne, whom she found in the state cabin, "Sir Edward Hawke sails in a fortnight for Torbay, thence to set out and attack the French. And, Anne, the _Mignonne_ goes as one of the frigates. Oh, Anne!" "It must be so. Be brave, darling. Sir Geoffrey is a sailor, as your father and my father were. It is duty. But--Ariadne--be cheered also with one small thing. Sir Geoffrey will be back to-night in an hour." "In an hour?" "Ay, in an hour. The _Nederland_ has sailed."