him that he had not acted diplomatically.

Heaton went directly to lawyer Grey, and laid the case before him. He
told the lawyer what his modest demands were, and gave instructions
that if, at any time before the suit came off, his cousin would
compromise, an arrangement avoiding publicity should be arrived at.

"Excuse me for saying that looks like weakness," remarked the lawyer.

"I know it does," answered Heaton. "But my case is so strong that I can
afford to have it appear weak."

The lawyer shook his head. He knew how uncertain the law was. But he
soon discovered that no compromise was possible.

The case came to trial, and the verdict was entirely in favour of
Bernard Heaton.

The pallor of death spread over the sallow face of David Allen, as he
realised that he was once again a man without a penny or a foot of
land. He left the court with bowed head, speaking no word to those who
had defended him. Heaton hurried after him, overtaking him on the
pavement.

"I knew this had to be the result," he said to the defeated man. "No
other outcome was possible. I have no desire to cast you penniless into
the street. What you refused to me I shall be glad to offer you. I will
make the annuity a thousand pounds."

Allen, trembling, darted one look of malignant hate at his cousin.