When the inspector went away, Lord Garvington sought out his wife and his late cousin’s widow.  To them he reported all that had passed and gave them the joyful assurance that nothing more would be heard in connection with the late tragic events.  Both ladies were delighted.

“Poor Freddy,” sighed Agnes, who had quite forgiven her brother now that he had paid for his sins, “he behaved very badly; all the same he had his good points, Noel.”

“Ah, he had, he had,” said Lady Garvington, the widow, shaking her untidy head, “he was selfish and greedy, and perhaps not so thoughtful as he might have been, but there are worse people than poor Freddy.”

Noel could not help smiling at this somewhat guarded eulogy of the dead, but did not pursue the subject.  “Well, Jane, you must not grieve too much.”

“No, I shall not,” she admitted bluntly, “I am going to be quiet for a few months and then perhaps I may marry again.  But I shall marry a man who lives on nuts and roots, my dear Noel.  Never again,” she shuddered, “shall I bother about the kitchen.  I shall burn Freddy’s recipes and cookery books.”

Lady Garvington evidently really felt relieved by the death of her greedy little husband, although she tried her best to appear sorry.  But the twinkle of relief in her eyes betrayed her, and neither Noel nor Agnes could blame her.  She had enough to live on—­since the new lord had arranged this in a most generous manner—­and she was free from the cares of the kitchen.

“So I’ll go to London in a few days when I’ve packed up,” said the widow nodding, “you two dears can stay here for your second honeymoon.”

“It will be concerned with pounds, shillings, and pence, then,” said Agnes with a smile, “for Noel has to get the estate put in order.  Things are very bad just now, as I know for certain.  But we must try to save The Manor from going out of the family.”

It was at this moment, and while the trio wondered how the financial condition of the Lamberts was to be improved, that a message came saying that Mr. Jarwin wished to see Lord and Lady Garvington in the library.  Wondering what the lawyer had come about, and dreading further bad news, the young couple descended, leaving the widow to her packing up.  They found the lean, dry solicitor waiting for them with a smiling face.

“Oh!” said Agnes as she greeted him, “then it’s not bad news?”

“On the contrary,” said Jarwin, with his cough, “it is the best of news.”

Noel looked at him hard.  “The best of news to me at the present moment would be information about money,” he said slowly.  “I have a title, it is true, but the estate is much encumbered.”

“You need not trouble about that, Lord Garvington; Mrs. Stanley has put all that right.”

“What?” asked Agnes greatly agitated.  “Has she made over the mortgages to Noel?  Oh, if she only has.”

“She has done better than that,” remarked Jarwin, producing a paper of no great size, “this is her will.  She wanted to make a deed of gift, and probably would have done so had she lived.  But luckily she made the will—­and a hard-and-fast one it is—­for I drew it up myself,” said Mr. Jarwin complacently.