Gerty was a strange girl. Her
heart bled for the poor man, as she called him. For sake of her father's
memory, there was no denying that she might even yet sacrifice herself.

D'Orsay paid many visits to Sir Digby in prison. He really acted like a
true friend, and did all he could for him. He had even gone to see his
old brother, and come back, figuratively speaking, with a finger in his
mouth.

"No good in that quarter," he told Sir Digby bluntly. "Says you're a
spendthrift and a ne'er-do-weel, and that he means to live for twenty
years yet; and 'pon honour, Digby, he looks as if he could. I did hear
too that he was looking out for a wife."

* * * * *

"I shall go and see my hero in his dark dungeon, in his prison cell, in
his chains and misery."

These are words spoken by Miss Gordon heroically to herself in the
mirror one morning. She had strange ideas of the Fleet.

She was astonished to find her hero in a flowered dressing-gown, smoking
a Havana, which he threw into the fire when he saw her, and living in a
handsomely-furnished room.

She went again and again. I do not know how she managed it, but I do
know that in a month's time Sir Digby was a free man, and married to
Miss Gordon.

This event took place just two days before Jack's ship staggered wearily
into Plymouth Sound.

While he still sat by his open port, gazing sadly landward, Tom Fairlie
came in with a rush and a run. He too had a copy of the _Times_.

"Listen, Jack," he cried, "and I'll read something that will astonish
you."

"Don't, Tom, don't. I have already seen the awful announcement. I am a
broken and crushed man!"

"Broken and crushed fiddlestick!" said Tom. "Listen, listen: 'At St.
Nicholas' Church, on the 5th inst., by the Rev. Charles Viewfield, Sir
Digby Auld to Miss Gertrude Gordon, daughter of--'"

"Hurrah!" cried Jack, springing from his seat and overturning the chair.
"Hurrah for the Rev. Charlie! Tom, shake hands, my dearest and best of
friends. You've made me the happiest man in the British Islands.
Hurrah!"

* * * * *

In a week's time the _Tonneraire_ was paid off and safe in dock, and a
carriage with postillions might have been seen tearing along the road
that leads from Plymouth to Tor Bay.

The carriage contained Jack Mackenzie and his friend Tom Fairlie.

CHAPTER XXIV.

BY THE OLD DIAL-STONE.

"So heroes may well wear their armour,