ls, and have lots of money to spend. Then I
doubled the stakes--I wanted to win a lot--and everything went wrong!"

"How much did you lose?" Berenice asked. Clara shivered.

"Don't ask me!" she cried. "Sir Leslie Borrowdean gave his own cheques
for all my I.O.U.'s. He is coming to see me some time to-day. I don't
know what I shall say to him."

"Do you mean to go on playing?" Berenice asked, quietly, "or is this
experience enough for you?"

"I shall never sit at a roulette table again as long as I live," she
declared. "I hate the very thought of it."

"Then you can just ask Sir Leslie the amount of the I.O.U.'s, and tell
him that he shall have a cheque in the morning," Berenice said. "I will
lend you the money."

Clara gave a little gasp.

"You are too kind," she exclaimed, "but I don't know when I shall be able
to repay you. It is--nearly three hundred pounds!"

"So long as you keep your word," Berenice answered, "and do not play
again, you need never let that trouble you. You shall have the cheque
before two o'clock. No, please don't thank me. If you take my advice you
won't spend another week-end at Bristow. It is not a fit house for young
girls. How is your uncle?"

"I haven't seen him this morning," Clara answered. "Perkins told me that
he came home after midnight with a man whom he seemed to have picked up
in the street, and they were in the study talking till nearly five this
morning."

Berenice rose.

"I came to see if you would care to drive down to Ranelagh with me this
morning," she said, "but you are evidently fit for nothing except to go
back to bed again. I won't forget the cheque, and remember me to your
uncle. By the bye, where's that nice young man who used to be always with
you down in the country?"

"You must mean Mr. Lindsay," Clara answered. "I have no idea. At Blakely,
I suppose."

"If I were you," Berenice said, as she rose, "I should write to him to
come up and look after you. You need it!"

She nodded pleasantly and took her leave. Clara threw herself into a
chair and rang the bell.

"Perkins," she said, "I have had no sleep and no breakfast. What should
you recommend?"

"An egg beaten up in milk, miss," the man suggested, "same as I've just
taken Mr. Mannering."

"Is my uncle up?" Clara asked.

"Not yet, miss," the man answered; "He is just dressing."

Clara nodded.

"Very well. Please get me what you said, and if Sir Leslie Borrowdean
calls I want to see him at once