sations that this could not really be the case; it was merely a
question of "good form," the conceit of a superior breeding, the duty not
to give oneself away. And when in turn he marked the eyes of Stroud
fixed on Benjy, under shaggy brows, and the curious greedy glances of the
racing man, he felt somehow sorry for him.

"Who 's that fellow with the game leg--I'm always seeing him about?"
asked the racing man.

And Shelton saw a sallow man, conspicuous for a want of parting in his
hair and a certain restlessness of attitude.

"His name is Bayes," said Stroud; "spends half his time among the
Chinese--must have a grudge against them! And now he 's got his leg he
can't go there any more."

"Chinese? What does he do to them?"

"Bibles or guns. Don't ask me! An adventurer."

"Looks a bit of a bounder," said the racing man.

Shelton gazed at the twitching eyebrows of old Stroud; he saw at once how
it must annoy a man who had a billet in the "Woods and Forests," and
plenty of time for "bridge" and gossip at his club, to see these people
with untidy lives. A minute later the man with the "game leg" passed
close behind his chair, and Shelton perceived at once how intelligible
the resentment of his fellow-members was. He had eyes which, not
uncommon in this country, looked like fires behind steel bars; he seemed
the very kind of man to do all sorts of things that were "bad form," a
man who might even go as far as chivalry. He looked straight at Shelton,
and his uncompromising glance gave an impression of fierce loneliness;
altogether, an improper person to belong to such a club. Shelton
remembered the words of an old friend of his father's: "Yes, Dick, all
sorts of fellows belong here, and they come here for all sorts o'
reasons, and a lot of em come because they've nowhere else to go, poor
beggars"; and, glancing from the man with the "game leg" to Stroud, it
occurred to Shelton that even he, old Stroud, might be one of these poor
beggars. One never knew! A look at Benjy, contained and cheery,
restored him. Ah, the lucky devil! He would not have to come here any
more! and the thought of the last evening he himself would be spending
before long flooded his mind with a sweetness that was almost pain.

"Benjy, I'll play you a hundred up!" said young Bill Dennant.

Stroud and the racing man went to watch the game; Shelton was left once
more to reverie.

"Good form!" thought he; "that fellow must be made of