After this the man who gave good advice abandoned politics and took to finance; in this branch of human affairs he made the fortune of several of his friends, preventing some from putting their money in alluring South African schemes, and advising others to risk theirs on events which seemed to him certain, such as the election of a President or the short-lived nature of a revolution; events which he foresaw with intuition amounting to second-sight.  At the same time he lost nearly all his own money by investing it in a company which professed to have discovered a manner—­cheap and rapid—­of transforming copper into platinum.  He made the fortune of a publisher by insisting on the publication of a novel which six intelligent men had declared to be unreadable.  It was called “The Conscience of John Digby,” and when published it sold by thousands and tens of thousands.  But he lost the handsome reward he received for this service by publishing at his own expense, on magnificent paper, an edition of Rabelais’ works in their original tongue.  He frequently spotted winners for his friends and for himself, but any money that he won at a race meeting he invariably lost coming home in the train on the Three Card Trick.

Nor did he lose touch with politicians, and this brought about the final catastrophe.  A great friend of his, the eminent John Brooke, had the chance of becoming Prime Minister.  Parties were at that time in a state of confusion.  The question was, should his friend ally himself with or sever himself for ever from Mr. Capax Nissy, the leader of the Liberal Aristocracy Party, who seemed to have a large following?  His friend, John Brooke, gave a small dinner to his most intimate friends in order to talk over the matter.  The man who gave good advice was so eloquent, so cogent in his reasoning, so acute in his perception, that he persuaded Brooke to sever himself for ever from Capax Nissy.  He persuaded all who were present, with the exception of Mr. Short-Sight, a pig-headed man who reasoned falsely.  So annoyed did the man who gave good advice become with Short-Sight, and so excited in his vexation, that he finally lost his self-control, and hit him as hard as he could on the head—­after Short-Sight had repeated a groundless assertion for the seventh time—­with the poker.

Short-Sight died, and the man who gave good advice was convicted of wilful murder.  He gave admirable advice to his counsel, but threw away his own case as soon as he entered the box himself, which he insisted on doing.  He was hanged in gaol at Reading.  Many people whom he had benefited in various ways visited him in prison, among others John Brooke, the Prime Minister.  It is said that he would certainly have been reprieved but for the intemperate and inexcusable letters he wrote to the Home Secretary from prison.

“It’s a great tragedy—­he was a clever man,” said Brooke after dinner when they were discussing the misfortune at Downing Street; “a very clever man, but he had no judgment.”