The old man’s whole nature seemed changed with his circumstances. He had squandered when he was poor; he pinched now he was rich. He had been generous when he was paying sixty per cent, for cash; he was mean to a degree now he had thousands invested in good security. He shut himself up in one of his houses, furnishing only three rooms, and cried over the expense of having a doctor to keep him alive. He quarrelled fiercely with his only son, Ralph, grudged him the paltry allowance which in his hard-up days he had cheerfully paid, and admitted only one person to his confidence. That person was his nephew Gurth, his dead brother’s son, he had been fearful that Gurth would come upon him for assistance, or would expect a gift. Gurth did nothing of the sort, and the old man could have hugged him. But Gurth’s good qualities were positive as well as negative. Gurth was in a fast set of young spendthrifts, and rich heirs and minors, who paid ninety per cent, for money, and he brought the old man their bills, and always brought him the best. No one knew where Gurth got the money. ‘His friend in the City’ was a mystery to all the set. He didn’t choose to say it was his uncle. Gurth made money out of the transactions, too, and he was useful in advising the old miser when to sue for his money and when to renew, for he was in the confidence of his reckless companions, and they thought him a jolly good fellow to get their paper melted for them. Old Ralph always promised Gurth to remember him in his will, and he did so after his own fashion. He left all he possessed to his only son for life, and on his death without issue the property was to pass to Gurth. The old miser may have had some idea that by leaving it this way Gurth would try to prevent Ralph squandering his fortune—that it would make him a sort of custodian of the hoarded wealth he loved. Gurth, who had counted upon a thumping legacy, was bitterly disappointed, and conceived a violent dislike to his cousin. He was, however, too shrewd to show it openly. He looked the situation in the face, and convinced himself that Ralph’s was a short life. Ralph inherited the family failing, and drink and dissipation had already wrecked a vigorous constitution. ‘Ralph Egerton will kill himself in a year, at the rate he’s going on,’ said people; and, seeing that the young man was already on the verge of delirium tremens, their prophecy was reasonable. Gurth was satisfied on the whole when he thought matters out. He was the constant companion of his cousin, and kept him well surrounded with the means of shortening his career. He introduced him to the gambling den of Josh Heckett, and shared in the plunder. He was only drawing on account—that was his idea. If Ralph Egerton was to lose money, _his_ money, what could be fairer than that he should lose it to him? It was after his introduction to the Soho establishment that a great change came over Ralph. Gurth detected it, sought the cause, and found it.