directly, Hilt, but indirectly."

"But how--how? Go on. I'm in torture."

"Ha!" cried Lady Tilborough, with a sigh of satisfaction. "I knew you
would be, Hilt, for your old friend's sake."

"Will you go on, Hetty?"

"Yes, yes. I can't prove it. I daren't say it, but Josh Rowle has been
a deal at Sam Simpkins's this last week or two."

"Yes?"

"And I'm as good as sure that the old scoundrel has been at work on
him."

"No; you're wrong. Josh is as honest as the day. I always trusted him
to ride square, and he always did."

"And so he has for me, Hilt."

"Of course. I tell you I always trusted him."

"But not with a bottle, Hilt."

"Eh? No; drink was his only weakness."

"That's right; and I believe Sam Simpkins--the old villain!--has been at
him that way to get him so that he can't ride."

"What!"

"The miserable wretch is down with D.T.--in an awful state, and the
local demon can't allay the spirit. To make matters worse, Jack
Granton, who might have helped me, can't be found."

"Jack was here just now. Gone on to the course."

"What! Oh, joy! No, no; it's no use. Too late. Nobody could make
poor Josh fit to ride to-day."

"But this is diabolical."

"Oh, it's ten times worse than that, Hilty, old man. I had such trust
in the mare that I'm on her for nearly every shilling I possess. If she
doesn't win I'm a ruined woman."

"Oh!" cried Sir Hilton, getting up and stamping about the room, tearing
at his hair, already getting thin on the crown.

"Thank you, Hilt dear, thank you. I always knew you for a sympathetic
soul. Can you imagine anything worse?"

"Yes--yes!" cried Sir Hilton; "ten times worse."

"What?"

"I'm on her too!"

"You?"

"Yes, to the tune of four thousand pounds."

"You, Hilt!" cried the lady, with her eyes brightening, and instead of
sympathy something like ecstasy in her tones. "I thought you had
`schworred off.'"

"Yes, of course--I had--but the mare--short of money--such faith in
her--I put on--lot of my wife's money. Hetty, how could you have
managed so badly with Josh Rowle? What have you done? Oh, woman,
woman! You always were the ruin of our sex! Why did you come with such
horrible news as this? I'm a ruined man."

"Yes, Hilt, and I'm a ruined woman."

"Do you know what it means for me, Hetty?"

"Yes, Hilt, old man--four thou'."

"Of my wife's money? No, it means locking my dressing-room door, and
then--"

"Yes? What then?"

"