ly forward from one bush to another until I
was close to where the pair stood. I trod softly upon the grass, my
ears strained to catch any word.

The words I at last caught were few and uncertain, for De Gex was
speaking in a low and highly confidential tone.

At last, however, on approaching a little nearer, I heard him exclaim:

"Jack, your husband, is a young fool! He has no discretion. He gambles
on the Stock Exchange without any expert knowledge. He came up here to
me yesterday afternoon and told me that he must have ten thousand
pounds to tide him over, and prevent him being hammered. I sent him
away, but I shall see that he has the money."

"How really good of you, Mr. De Gex!" exclaimed the girl--for as far
as I could see she was hardly a woman. "I don't know how to thank you
sufficiently. I know Jack is a born gambler. His father was on the
Stock Exchange before him, and I suppose games of chance are in the
breed of the Cullertons."

"Not in you, I hope, Dorothy," replied the millionaire. "You have had
the misfortune to marry a gambler, and--well, my dear girl--I pity
you. Gambling is worse than drink. The drunkard can be sickened and
put off, but the gambler never. Now I want you to promise me one
thing."

"What is that?" she asked.

"I shall see that he has the money. But it will come through a second
party, not through me. I do not wish to appear to lend him money,
otherwise he will still continue his speculations, feeling that he has
me behind him. Now you know the truth, Dorothy. But you must promise
me to say nothing. Nobody must know--not even my wife."

"Oh! how very good of you to help Jack out of a hole!" she exclaimed.
"Of course I'll remain silent. But it really is awfully kind of you. I
don't know how to thank you."

"I will do it for your sake, Dorothy," said De Gex, bending to her in
confidence. "I am indebted to _you_--remember!"

"Ah! no!" cried the young woman, whose name apparently was Cullerton.
"No! Please don't refer to that terrible affair!"

Her voice betrayed emotion and apprehension, while at that moment, as
she turned her face to the light of the moon, I was able to get a full
view of it. It was that of a very beautiful young woman of about
twenty-three, rather _petite_, with fair bobbed hair, regular
features, and sweet lips. But the expression upon her countenance was
one of fear and apprehension.

"I have no desire to remember it," said her host. "We agreed at the
t