nk that the
heavens had rained wealth upon them if some one would give them
fifteen hundred pounds!"

"Very well. At any rate I won't take it away from her. And now I want
you to tell me something else. Do you remember a fellow we used to
know named Berdmore?"

"Philip Berdmore?"

"He may have been Philip, or Daniel, or Jeremiah, for anything I
know. But the man I mean was very much given to taking his liquor
freely."

"That was Jack Berdmore, Philip's brother. Oh yes, I remember him.
He's dead now. He drank himself to death at last, out in India."

"He was in the army?"

"Yes;--and what a pleasant fellow he was at times! I see Phil
constantly, and Phil's wife, but they never speak of Jack."

"He got married, didn't he, after we used to see him?"

"Oh yes;--he and Phil married sisters. It was a sad affair, that."

"I remember being with him and her,--and the sister too, after they
were engaged, and he got so drunk that we were obliged to take him
away. There was a large party of us at Richmond, but I don't think
you were there."

"But I heard of it."

"And she was a Miss Vigo?"

"Exactly. I see the younger sister constantly. Phil isn't very rich,
and he's got a lot of children,--but he's very happy."

"What became of the other sister?"

"Of Jack's wife?"

"Yes. What became of her?"

"I haven't an idea. Something bad, I suppose, as they never speak of
her."

"And how long is he dead?"

"He died about three years since. I only knew it from Phil's telling
me that he was in mourning for him. Then he did speak of him for a
moment or two, and I came to know that he had carried on to the end
in the same way. If a fellow takes to drink in this country, he'll
never get cured in India."

"I suppose not."

"Never."

"And now I want to find out something about his widow."

"And why?"

"Ah;--I'm not sure that I can tell you why. Indeed I'm sure that I
cannot. But still you might be able to assist me."

"There were heaps of people who used to know the Vigos," said the
lawyer.

"No end of people,--though I couldn't for the life of me say who any
of them were."

"They used to come out in London with an aunt, but nobody knew much
about her. I fancy they had neither father nor mother."

"They were very pretty."

"And how well they danced! I don't think I ever knew a girl who
danced so pleasantly,--giving herself no airs, you know,--as Mary
Vigo."

"Her name was Mary," said Belton, remembering t