"It is delicious," he declared. "Listen. You remember that one day when you dined with me I told you of my uncle the Cardinal?"
"The uncle from whom you borrowed money?" Arnold remarked, dryly.
"Precisely," Sabatini agreed; "I borrowed money from him! It was only a trifle but I chose my own methods. Heavens, but it is droll!"
Sabatini began to laugh softly. His whole face now was alight with enjoyment.
"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.