"Silver Bell? Well, that's not so odd as the last. Silver Bell stands
high in the list. He has a good many backers--long odds in his favour
against most of the field. I should not mind backing Silver Bell."

The fact is, that he had no idea of backing any other horse from the
moment he heard the soothsayer's prediction. He made up his mind to no
half measures this time. He would go in to win something handsome.

He was in great force and full of confidence on the race-course. He had
no fears for the result. He bet heavily. There was a good margin still
untouched of the Mardykes estate; and Sir Bale was a good old name in
the county. He found a ready market for his offers, and had soon
staked--such is the growing frenzy of that excitement--about twenty
thousand pounds on his favourite, and stood to win seven.

He did not win, however. He lost his twenty thousand pounds.

And now the Mardykes estate was in imminent danger. Sir Bale returned,
having distributed I O Us and promissory notes in all directions about
him--quite at his wit's end.

Feltram was standing--as on the occasion of his former happier
return--on the steps of Mardykes Hall, in the evening sun, throwing
eastward a long shadow that was lost in the lake. He received him, as
before, with a laugh.

Sir Bale was too much broken to resent this laugh as furiously as he
might, had he been a degree less desperate.

He looked at Feltram savagely, and dismounted.

"Last time you would not trust him, and this time he would not trust
you. He's huffed, and played you false."

"It was not he. I should have backed that d----d horse in any case,"
said Sir Bale, grinding his teeth. "What a witch you have discovered!
One thing is true, perhaps. If there was a Feltram rich enough, he might
have the estate now; but there ain't. They are all beggars. So much for
your conjurer."

"He may make amends to you, if you make amends to him."

"He! Why, what can that wretched impostor do? D--n me, I'm past helping
now."

"Don't you talk so," said Feltram. "Be civil. You must please the old
gentleman. He'll make it up. He's placable when it suits him. Why not go
to him his own way? I hear you are nearly ruined. You must go and make
it up."

"Make it up! With whom? With a fellow who can't make even a guess at
what's coming? Why should I trouble my head about him more?"

"No man, young or old, likes to be frumped. Why did you cross his fancy?
He won't see you unless you g