Sir Patrick looked up for a moment from the letter. Given a young man
who dates from "Baden," and declares himself to be in "a terrible
mess," as representing the circumstances of the case--what is the
interpretation to be placed on them? Sir Patrick drew the inevitable
conclusion. Arnold had been gambling.

He shook his head, and went on with the letter.

"I must say, dreadful as it is, that I am not to blame--nor she either,
poor thing."

Sir Patrick paused again. "She?" Blanche had apparently been gambling
too? Nothing was wanting to complete the picture but an announcement in
the next sentence, presenting the courier as carried away, in his turn,
by the insatiate passion for play. Sir Patrick resumed:

"You can not, I am sure, expect _me_ to have known the law. And as for
poor Miss Silvester--"

"Miss Silvester?" What had Miss Silvester to do with it? And what could
be the meaning of the reference to "the law?"

Sir Patrick had re ad the letter, thus far, standing up. A vague
distrust stole over him at the appearance of Miss Silvester's name
in connection with the lines which had preceded it. He felt nothing
approaching to a clear prevision of what was to come. Some indescribable
influence was at work in him, which shook his nerves, and made him
feel the infirmities of his age (as it seemed) on a sudden. It went no
further than that. He was obliged to sit down: he was obliged to wait a
moment before he went on.

The letter proceeded, in these words:

"And, as for poor Miss Silvester, though she felt, as she reminds me,
some misgivings--still, she never could have foreseen, being no lawyer
either, how it was to end. I hardly know the best way to break it to
you. I can't, and won't, believe it myself. But even if it should be
true, I am quite sure you will find a way out of it for us. I will stick
at nothing, and Miss Silvester (as you will see by her letter) will
stick at nothing either, to set things right. Of course, I have not
said one word to my darling Blanche, who is quite happy, and suspects
nothing. All this, dear Sir Patrick, is very badly written, I am afraid,
but it is meant to prepare you, and to put the best side on matters at
starting. However, the truth must be told--and shame on the Scotch
law is what _I_ say. This it is, in short: Geoffrey Delamayn is even a
greater scoundrel than you think him; and I bitterly repent (as things
have turned out) having held my tongue that night when you and