vis," he said, lying back comfortably in his chair, and
lighting a cigar, "did I hide my sentiments at Mr. Castlemaine's? Did I
pose as a moral reformer? And what is more, did you spare me? Did you
not, with great and loyal friendship, give both Mr. and Miss
Castlemaine your views concerning me? Did you not tell Miss Castlemaine
of my reputation at Oxford, and of my terrible opinions? Did you not
tell Mr. Castlemaine that I was an atheist, that I had laughed at
Christian morality, and that I was a hard drinker? Come now, deny it if
you can."

"You know what you said to me," said Purvis, looking on the floor like a
man ashamed.

"Of course I did, my dear fellow. Don't look so miserable about it.
Well, I did my worst, and you did your worst. Now look at that!"

He threw a letter to Purvis as he spoke.

"Am I to read it?"

"Else why did I give it you?"

Purvis opened the letter and read it. It was an invitation to Mr.
Castlemaine's to dinner.

"Are you going?" asked Purvis.

"Of course I am. Do you think I am going to let such an opportunity
slip? Oh, you need not be afraid to show it to Sprague. It is not an
invitation to a drawing-room meeting, it is only to a dinner."

"Well, that means nothing," said Sprague.

"No? I think it proves my statements to the hilt. That invitation would
not have come from John Castlemaine without his daughter's
consent--perhaps it was at her instigation. And yet she knows that I
am--well--all you've described me to be. I am an atheist, I've thrown
copybook morals overboard, I am a hard drinker. But what then? I conform
to the conventions; no man has ever seen me drunk; but more than all
that, I am mentioned as one who is going to have a brilliant career.
Hence the invitation."

"An invitation to dinner means nothing," urged Sprague.

"Hence the invitation, and hence the future justification of my
statements," he persisted. "Good-night, my friends, I am sorry I cannot
stay longer."

He walked out of the room quite gaily. A casual passer-by, if he had met
him, would at that moment have thought of him as a happy man.

And yet, although Sprague and Purvis did not know it, Leicester had
entered the smoking-room of the club that night with a strong
inclination to refuse the invitation to John Castlemaine's house. He
_had_ been ashamed of making a woman the subject of a wager, and more,
he had for several days been fighting against the craving for alcohol.
He realised more than a