This discovery greatly surprised old Dame Worthington, and Sir Richard Warbeck also; but the cunning scoundrel supported his statement to relationship with so much plausible, but fictitious, evidence that both Sir Richard and Dame Worthington took the cunning Scotchman into their confidence. Sir Andrew had now “the game in his own hands,” he thought, and he also came by the information, that should Sir Richard die first, _all_ his property, if Phillip Redgill was proved guilty of the crimes of which Captain Jack accused him, would all go to Charley, Ned Warbeck, and Dame Worthington. “As she has made her will already,” thought Sir Andrew, “and left me a small sum, and the rest to the Warbecks, it would not be very difficult to get the will altered altogether in _my_ favour, “_And poison her!_” This devilish design he resolved to put into execution. He was very attentive to old Dame Worthington, and would suffer no one, as a “relation,” in the absence of Sir Richard, to administer to her any medicine, however simple. With these opportunities in his hand, Sir Andrew made good use of his time. He never allowed a chance to pass him, but, day by day, was gradually poisoning her. The old dame got weaker and weaker every day. The doctors could not make it out. Yet the sole object of her thoughts was the adventurous stray one, Ned Warbeck, “her favourite boy.” While propped up in her chair, one day in the parlour, and surrounded by her friends, she was continually speaking of her “poor sailor boy,” Ned, when a gentleman, who was present, said, “Well, madam, I know not who your young favourite is, but I am a sailor myself and love the profession.” “It is a compliment to me to hear you speak in such glowing terms of our gallant tars. “And the bravest of them all is Ned Warbeck, I know,” said the old dame with a flushed cheek. “Of course he is,” said old Sir Andrew, trying to smile, but at the same time, congratulating himself at the potent power of the secret poison he was daily administering for the sake of the good old dame’s money. “Ned Warbeck, of course he is the bravest of the brave,” he muttered, “there isn’t a lad in all the king’s navy like to him.” “Ned Warbeck?” said the stranger, in astonishment. “Yes, do you know him?” asked the good dame, in great curiosity. The stranger did not answer, but said, “If you will only listen, I’ll tell you something that will gratify you.” So saying, he lit his pipe again, and commenced his story round the crackling winter fire. CHAPTER XXXII. A LEAP FOR LIFE—THE BRAVERY OF A YOUNG MIDDY—THE TALE STARTLES ALL PRESENT—WHO IS HE? “The last cruise I made in the Channel was in search of the Skeleton Crew, in the ‘Diamond’ frigate, ‘Trumps,’ as we sometimes used to call our gallant ship. “We had been tacking and filling for several weeks on the western coast in search of Death-wing’s phantom ship of smugglers, and, during that time, we had had some pretty heavy weather.