rousing himself as if from a reverie, exclaimed : "Oh, by the way, I wonder what has won the Leger. I am not a 'horsy' man, and indeed don't take the faintest interest in that sort of thing; but however indifferent a man is, he is apt to find himself wondering at this time in the evening."

He said this with his most graceful carelessness of manner; and his indifference was quite genuine. He was not a horsy man; no man who cares to be a hero amongst women ever is; and as to the race-somebody would be ruined no doubt, and somebody else would win a heap of money, and there would be a general shuffling of the cards, but no possible gain therefrom for Mr. Arthur Holroyde. How was he to guess that on that northern race-course there had been another hazard above and beyond the ordinary prizes and the ordinary hazards of the meeting, and that a horse had run for no less a stake than the brilliant Arthur Holroyde's life—and had lost!

CHAPTER IV.

“AND I—WHAT I SEEM TO MY FRIEND, YOU SEE!"

THE telegram that reached Roxborough in the September evening brought despair to the hearts of Henry Adolphus Dobb and his most dangerous adviser. The news came almost as quickly as it could come to the tobacconist's shop, where the two men sat pale and nervous, trying to look unconcerned, trying to carry matters with a high hand, and to smoke their cigars and talk lightly of general topics, but suffering a torture only second to that of the wretch who waits in the dock while a British jury deliberates upon his doom. A breathless boy came with the telegram. The tobacconist was horsy, and went shares with a sporting neighbour in the expense of the message. There were a good many men in the shop, privileged customers, all waiting for the same in

telligence, and all failing dismally in the attempt to assume an easy and indifferent bearing. They pressed round the tobacconist as he tore open the envelope and read the message; but Dobb pushed fiercely through the little throng, and put his hand upon the man's shoulder, craning over him to look at the paper in his hand.

"Fly-by-night first, Heliogabalus second, Twopenny-Postman a bad third.”

And neither the lieutenant nor the clerk had backed the horse for a place: they had backed him to win! They had set their lives upon "this little chance," like Dr. Mackay's Salamandrine, and had lost.

Mr. Dobb's face was of a dull livid complexion as he rejoined his companion, a little way outside the eager circle round the tobacconist. Gervoise Catheron had no need to ask any questions about the message; he could read the result of the race in the face of his friend. They went out into the street silently, and they had walked several yards before either spoke. They turned as if instinctively out of the bustling crowded High Street into

that dismal little lane leading to the river, the dreary little lane in which Gervoise had walked with the brilliant widow some nine months before. Men in difficulty or despair seem to take to these dirty lanes and dark obscure alleys as naturally as a wild animal takes to his covert.

"This is a nice fix you've got me into!" the clerk said at last in a hoarse breathless manner.

"Don't say I've got you into it, Dobb, old fellow. Lord knows I didn't make the horse lose, pleaded the lieutenant, in whose tones there was some touch of fear. It is not pleasant for the tempter to encounter the reproaches of his victim. Surely once or so in the course of that dark lifedrama Mephistopheles must have been ever so little afraid of Faust.

"No, but you told me he was safe to win," answered the clerk with a bitterness that was almost hysterical. "You talked and talked until you talked me into being a worse fool than yourself. Yes, and fifty times a worse fool, for what risk have you run in backing the horse? I've staked my name and character, and my house and home,

and the bread I eat, upon him; and what did you stand to lose? What does a beggar lose when he gets his friend into a hole?"

"Come now, Dobb, I say, old fellow-"

"Gervoise Catheron," cried Henry Adolphus, turning upon his companion savagely, "how are you going to get me the money that I took out of the safe in our office? It must be put back there, every sixpence of it, before Saturday night. How are you going to get it?"

"Don't be violent, Dobb.

I-I—can't talk

about how I shall get it while you go on like that; but-I-will get it."

"You shall get it!" cried the clerk. "Yes, as sure as there's a heaven above us, you shall! I know your little game. You'll try to fool me in this matter as you've done in others. It will be 'to-morrow, Dobb;' and 'next week, Dobb;' and 'the week after next, Dobb.' That won't do this time. I'm telling you no lies; though, you're so accustomed to telling them yourself, I daresay you can't believe another man can tell the truth. I tell you that if I don't get that money between