“Jack,” Howard said, “for forty-eight hours I have had a hand-to-hand tussle with the devil.  He was here bodily, as much as you are, but I beat him, and swore I wouldn’t burn the paper.  Read it!”

He pointed to it upon the floor at his feet.

“I had it pretty near the fire twice, and singed it some,” he continued, as Jack took it up, and, glancing at the first words, exclaimed, “A will!  You found one, then?”

“Not a regularly attested will, but answers every purpose,” Howard replied, while Jack read on with lightning rapidity, understanding much that was dark before, and guessing in part what it was to Howard to have all his hopes swept away.

“By Jove!” he said, as he finished reading, “there was good in the old man after all.  I didn’t think so when I heard Jakey’s story, and saw where his wife lived and died.  We found the marriage certificate.”

“You did!” Howard exclaimed, a great gladness that he had not destroyed the paper taking possession of him.  “Why didn’t you write and tell me?  It would have saved me that fight with the devil.”

“I don’t know why I didn’t,” Jack replied.  “I was awfully busy, and went at once to Palatka to see if Tom Hardy left any family there, and found he was never married.  Then I went to Atlanta to find some trace of the Browns and the Hardy plantation.  The latter had been sold, the Hardys were all gone, and the Browns, too,—­killed in the war, most likely, except one who is a street-car conductor in Boston, and I am going to hunt him up, as I believe he was at the wedding, although he must have been quite young.  Yes, I ought to have written, and I’m sorry for you, upon my soul.  You look as if you’d had a taste of the infernal regions.  I’m glad you didn’t burn it.”

He took Howard’s hand and held it, while he told him, very briefly, the circumstances of their finding the certificate, of whose existence Col.  Crompton could not have known.  “And, Howard,” he added, “I’ve something else to tell you.  Eloise is to be my wife.  We settled it in the train before I knew she was a great heiress.  Can’t you congratulate me?” he asked, as Howard did not speak.

“I expected it.  You’ve got everything,—­money and girl, too,” Howard said at last.  “You are a lucky dog, and, whether you believe me or not, I’d rather have the girl than the money.  I asked her to marry me.  Did she tell you?”

“Of course not,” Jack replied, and Howard went on, “Well, I did, and kissed her, too!”

“Did she kiss you?” Jack asked a little sharply, and Howard replied, “No, sir; she was madder than a hatter; you’ve no cause to be jealous.”

“All right,” Jack answered, his brow clearing.  “All right.  I’m more sorry for you now than I was before.  I didn’t know you really cared for her that way; but, I say, aren’t you coming to dinner?  The bell has rung twice, and I still in my travelling clothes and you in your dressing-gown.”