e of better stuff than that. Of
course he felt sore at his failures, when he was used to play first
fiddle. When the devil of conceit is cast out of us the throes are
severe. But by the time he got home Crawley was able to laugh at his
own mishaps. Perhaps Gould got the worst of it after all. "_That_
friend of yours an Admirable Crichton!" said his sister. "A fine set
you must be!"

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

THE DESCENT OF AVERNUS.

A worse resident than Mr Wobbler the pedestrian took up his abode at
Slam's, and this was no other than his son, Josiah Slam, who had gone to
London as the only field wide enough for his talents ten years before,
and had only been occasionally heard of since. Now, however, he thought
fit to pay his parents a visit, and did not appear to be in prosperous
circumstances, though it is probable that he had money, or money's
worth, or the prospect of it, for Slam was not the man to kill the
fatted calf for a prodigal son, unless he saw the way to making a good
profit out of the veal, the hoofs, and the skin.

Josiah was a young man of varied accomplishments, all of which were
practised for the purpose of transferring other people's cash from their
pockets to his own. He called himself a sportsman, and no doubt the
operation alluded to was sport, to him. Arriving about Christmas time,
when holiday making was general, he gleaned a little at the game of
skittles, at which many of the agriculturists round about thought they
were somewhat proficient; but cunning as he was he could not go on
disguising his game for ever, and so directly he saw that the yokels
were growing shy of playing with him, he gave it up. The Sunday pitch-
and-toss and card assemblages were also a source of profit to him.
Marriner thought he could cheat, and had indeed stolen money in that way
from his companions, and there was nothing Josiah Slam liked better than
dealing with a weaker member of his own fraternity. He allowed Marriner
to cheat him a little, and pretended not to discover it; played at being
vexed; drew him on, and fleeced him of his ill-gotten gains.

But it was apparent that he played too well at these amusements also, so
then he showed them a game at which everybody might win, except himself.
Where it was all chance, and skill could not interfere. Roulette, in
short. The room in which Professor Wobbler had given his boxing lessons
had a table fitted up in it, and on this table the wheel-of-fortune