“And how did you manage to capture him at last, for I have heard you were a long time in finding him out?” “Some months, for he lived from time to time in all sorts of holes and corners, and under all imaginable names. He treated his wife, Fanny, in the most shameful manner, and led her also into vice and crime; but as long as she supplied him with money from time to time, he seldom went home, and did not care how or whence the money came. I heard all the facts from a spy, whom I employed, and who, for the last three days before his capture, followed Phillip Redgill about like a shadow.” “Like an evil genius,” said Ned, smiling. “Just so,” said Captain Jack, smoking a cigar. “Being extremely hard pressed for money, Phillip thought he would visit his home—the first time, he had done so, it must be confessed, for several weeks—and see what could be realised there. “He was not surprised to see much company present, for _that_ he knew was of frequent occurrence, and had originated with himself. “But feeling supremely miserable, he was stung to the quick to see his wife in such exuberant spirits, presiding at a sumptuous supper, which he very well knew she was not able to afford. “Around the table were seated many young men of gay celebrity, drinking wine and joking. “Madame was decked out in all the fashions of the season, and when her husband arrived she rose very quietly, handed him a chair, and whispered very lovingly, “‘A few of _your_ friends, dear!’ “When the company had dispersed, Redgill, who was now intoxicated with wine and passion, broke forth into one of his habitual fits of furious brutality, and threatened to kill his wife. “He tossed over the supper table. “He struck Fanny a severe blow with a decanter, and then fell upon the floor helplessly intoxicated among the ruins of the feast—eatables, drinkables, plate, glass, and costly etceteras. “When the moon peeped above the houses, and threw a faint light into the apartment, he awoke in a maudlin state, and staggered up to bed. “Everything seemed in confusion; the drawers and chests were rifled, and their contents strewn about the floor. “The bed had no occupant, and by the lighted lamp which stood upon the dressing-table, he perceived a note addressed to him, in Fanny’s handwriting. “He opened it, and read its contents, which ran something like this— “‘You have struck me for the last time. Love has long departed from my heart. I, whom you have so cruelly deceived without regrets, bid you farewell.’ “‘Oh! that’s it, eh?’ said Phillip, hiccuping. ‘Gone!—farewell! and all that kind of style, eh? Well, all right, it’s just the thing; it couldn’t be better! I’ll sell off all the things, and make some ready money. I’ll do it this very day. Just what I wanted.’ “Phillip pulled off his boots with much difficulty, and fell upon the bed, and was soon fast asleep. “The blinds were not drawn.