Lord Garvington was not a creditable member of the aristocracy, since his vices greatly exceeded his virtues. With a weak nature, and the tastes of a sybarite, he required a great deal of money to render him happy. Like the immortal Becky Sharp, he could have been fairly honest if possessed of a large income; but not having it he stopped short of nothing save actual criminality in order to indulge his luxurious tastes to the full. Candidly speaking, he had already overstepped the mark when he altered the figures of a check his brother-in-law had given him, and, had not Pine been so generous, he would have undoubtedly occupied an extremely unpleasant position. However, thanks to Agnes, the affair had been hushed up, and with characteristic promptitude, Garvington had conveniently forgotten how nearly he had escaped the iron grip of Justice. In fact, so entirely did it slip his memory that--on the plea of Pine's newly discovered origin--he did not desire the body to be placed in the family vault. But the widow wished to pay this honor to her husband's remains, and finally got her own way in the matter, for the simple reason that now she was the owner of Pine's millions Garvington did not wish to offend her. But, as such a mean creature would, he made capital out of the concession. "Since I do this for you, Agnes," he said bluntly, when the question was being decided, "you must do something for me." "What do you wish me to do?" "Ah--hum--hey--ho!" gurgled Garvington, thinking cunningly that it was too early yet to exploit her. "We can talk about it when the will has been read, and we know exactly how we stand. Besides your grief is sacred to me, my dear. Shut yourself up and cry." Agnes had a sense of humor, and the blatant hypocrisy of the speech made her laugh outright in spite of the genuine regret she felt for her husband's tragic death. Garvington was quite shocked. "Do you forget that the body is yet in the house?" he asked with heavy solemnity. "I don't forget anything," retorted Agnes, becoming scornfully serious. "Not even that you count on me to settle your wretched financial difficulties out of poor Hubert's money." "Of course you will, my dear. You are a Lambert." "Undoubtedly; but I am not necessarily a fool." "Oh, I can't stop and hear you call yourself such a name," said Garvington, ostentatiously dense to her true meaning. "It is hysteria that speaks, and not my dear sister. Very natural when you are so grieved. We are all mortal." "You are certainly silly in addition," replied the widow, who knew how useless it was to argue with the man. "Go away and don't worry me. When poor Hubert is buried, and the will is read, I shall announce my intentions." "Intentions! Intentions!" muttered the corpulent little lord, taking a hasty departure out of diplomacy. "Surely, Agnes won't be such a fool as to let the family estates go."