"Last month," he continued, "His Eminence died. He had fourteen
nephews, three brothers, two sisters, and no end of nieces. To whom
do you think he has left his entire fortune, my dear Arnold--three
hundred thousand pounds they say it is?"

"To you!" Arnold gasped.

"To me, indeed," Sabatini assented. "I did not even go to the
funeral. I read of his death in the newspapers and I shrugged my
shoulders. It was nothing to me. Yet those fourteen nephews were
left not so much as would buy their mourning clothes. This is the
chief sentence in the will,--'_To the only one of my relatives whose
method of seeking my favors has really appealed to me, I leave the
whole of my fortune, without partition or reserve._'--And then my
name. I was that one. Almost," Sabatini concluded, with a little
sigh, "I am sorry that he is dead. I should have liked once more to
have shaken him by the hand."

Arnold was speechless. The realization of what it all meant was
beginning to dawn upon him. Sabatini was wealthy--Ruth was a great
heiress. Her treasure ship had come in, indeed--and his was passing
him by.

"I am glad," he said slowly, "glad for your sake and for Ruth's."

Sabatini nodded.

"My shadowy means," he remarked, "have kept me in comfort. Perhaps,
even, they have been a trifle more than I have let people imagine.
Still, this is all very different. Ruth and I are going to wander
about the Riviera for a time. Afterwards, we are going to sail to
Sabatini and patch up my old castle. I have some tenants there who
certainly deserve a little consideration from me--old friends, who
would sooner live without a roof over their heads than seek a new
master. I shall grow vines again, my young friend, and make cheeses.
You shall come from the illustrious firm of Samuel Weatherley &
Company and be my most favored customer. But let me give you just a
word of advice while I am in the humor. Buy our cheeses, if you
will, but never touch our wine. Leave that for the peasants who make
it. Somehow or other, they thrive,--they even become, at times,
merry upon it,--but the Lord have mercy upon those others, not born
upon the island of Sabatini, who raise it to their lips!"

"I will leave the wine alone," Arnold promised. "But shan't I be
able to say good-bye to Ruth?"

Sabatini leaned towards him. His expression was once more grave, yet
there was the dawn of a smile upon his sensitive lips.

"You can say to her what you will," he murmured,