But old Redgill was a man of firm purpose; when he once had made up his mind to anything, and although he did not tell any one of his intentions, he frequently informed Phillip privately that his conduct was bringing sorrows and misery on his old age, and that if he did not reform he would disinherit him. All this Phillip Redgill looked upon as a good joke, and set his wits to work to get money as best he could by hook or by crook, so as to still keep up the reputation he had already gained among the gayest of the gay, as “Reckless Redgill.” One of the first things which Phillip did when he found it no longer possible to “screw” money out of his rich old parent, was to form the acquaintance of the notorious Death-wing, chief of the Skeleton Crew. Old Redgill had two ships on their way from the Indies, laden with gold, spices, and silks. In consideration of receiving half of the cargo, Death-wing and his infamous crew resolved to waylay these two ships and attack them when about fifty miles from the Land’s End. This was done. The crew of both ships were murdered in cold blood. The vessels were run into a snug inlet on the West coast of England, near to where Death-wing’s caves and store-houses were situated. Phillip received but one-fifth of the spoil, instead of one-half. But he was much too wise to say anything about his disappointment and annoyance. This system of villany was repeated more than once, but as his father’s ships did not arrive in port except at intervals of many months, Phillip often found his money running short, and without any visible means of replenishing his exhausted purse. In his father’s offices he had often heard of old Farmer Bertram’s indebtedness, and of how much money was still due on the mortgages at Four Ash Farm. Mr. Harry Bolton, he also knew, was his father’s travelling collector, and was about to start on his usual journey. As we have seen, Phillip forestalled Bolton’s visit to Four Ash farm, and by impersonating Bolton, obtained an interview with old Bertram and murdered him. Young Redgill was a cool-handed villain, and knew not what remorse was. Bloodshed to him was quite a usual thing. He was not a brave young man by any means, as Wildfire Ned often proved. But it was whispered by those who knew him best that when returning from wine parties he would have no scruple in picking a quarrel with any inoffensive citizen he might fall across, and feel no regret at drawing his sword and wounding any one who was unarmed. Many a simple shopkeeper and unsuspecting night watchman had been “pinked” by “Reckless Redgill,” and no one was any the wiser. But, like all great rogues and rascals, Phillip was very careful, very careful indeed, in picking quarrels, or drawing his “toasting fork,” upon any one who was at all likely or able to resent it blow for blow. He had up to the present time run along in his career of crime undetected and unsuspected. But all things have an end.