triously in the ruins before they found
the body of Rigaud, with his head smashed to atoms beneath a huge beam.

They dug longer than that for the body of Flintwinch, and stopped at
last when they came to the conclusion that he was not there. By that
time, however, he had had a chance to get together all of the firm's
money he could lay his hands on and to decamp. He was never seen again
in England, but travelers claimed to have seen him in Holland, where he
lived comfortably under the name of "Mynheer Von Flyntevynge"--which is,
after all, about as near as one can come to saying "Flintwinch" in
Dutch.

No one grieved greatly over his loss. It was long before Arthur knew of
these events, and Little Dorrit was too happy in nursing him back to
health to think much about it.

She was not content with this, either, but wrote to Mr. and Mrs.
Meagles, who were abroad, of the sick man's misfortune. The former went
at once in search of Doyce and brought him back to London, where
together they set the firm of "Doyce and Clennam" on its feet again and
arranged to buy Arthur's liberty. They did not tell Arthur anything of
this, however, in order that they might surprise him.

Mr. Meagles, for Little Dorrit's sake, tried hard to find the fragment
of the will which Rigaud had kept in the iron box. But it was
Tattycoram, the little maid with the bad temper, who finally found it in
a lodging Rigaud had occupied, and brought it to Mr. Meagles, praying on
her knees that he take her back into his service, which, to be sure, he
was very glad to do.

Arthur, while he was slowly growing better, had thought much of his
condition. Though Little Dorrit had begged him again and again to take
her money and use it as his own, he had refused, telling her as gently
as he could that now that she was rich and he a ruined man, this could
never be, and that, as the time had long gone by when she and the
Marshalsea had anything in common, they two must soon part.

One day, however, when he was well enough to sit up, Little Dorrit came
to his room in the prison and told him she had received a very great
fortune and asked him again if he would not take it.

"Never," he told her.

"You will not take even half of it?" she asked pleadingly.

"Never, dear Little Dorrit!" he said emphatically.

Then, at last, she laid her face on his breast crying:

"I have nothing in the world. I am as poor as when I lived here in the
Marshalsea. I have just foun