g as soon as possible, but I cannot go
till this is settled. Nid--[meaning Lord Nidderdale]--is a
brick.

Your affectionate Brother,

GERALD.

The other was from Nidderdale, and referred to the same subject.

DEAR SILVERBRIDGE,

Here has been a terrible nuisance. Last night some of
the men got to playing cards, and Gerald lost a terribly
large sum to Percival. I did all that I could to stop it,
because I saw that Percival was going in for a big thing.
I fancy that he got as much from Dolly Longstaff as he did
from Gerald;--but it won't matter much to Dolly; or if it
does, nobody cares. Gerald told me he was writing to you
about it, so I am not betraying him.

What is to be done? Of course Percival is behaving badly.
He always does. I can't turn him out of the house, and he
seems to intend to stick to Gerald till he has got the
money. He has taken a cheque from Dolly dated two months
hence. I am in an awful funk for fear Gerald should pitch
into him. He will, in a minute, if anything rough is said
to him. I suppose the straightest thing would be to go to
the Duke at once, but Gerald won't hear of it. I hope you
won't think me wrong to tell you. If I could help him I
would. You know what a bad doctor I am for that sort of
complaint.

Yours always,

NIDDERDALE.

The dinner-bell had rung before Silverbridge had come to an end of
thinking of this new vexation, and he had not as yet made up his mind
what he had better do for his brother. There was one thing as to
which he was determined,--that it should not be done by him, nor,
if he could prevent it, by Gerald. There should be no dealings with
Comfort and Criball. The Duke had succeeded, at any rate, in filling
his son's mind with a horror of aid of that sort. Nidderdale had
suggested that the "straightest" thing would be to go direct to the
Duke. That no doubt would be straight,--and efficacious. The Duke
would not have allowed a boy of his to be a debtor to Lord Percival
for a day, let the debt have been contracted how it might. But
Gerald had declared against this course,--and Silverbridge himself
would have been most unwilling to adopt it. How could he have told
that story to the Duke, while there was that other infinitely more
important story of his own, which must be told at once?

In the midst of all these troubles he went down to dinner. "Lady
Mabel," said the Duke, "