ou can do. And you're bound to
do it. You can advertise him as trained by me. He's safe to fetch
seven hundred that way."

Denvil bent his head in desperate resignation.

"You are down on a fellow, Desmond. How about the other eight?"

"That will be--my affair."

Again the Boy was startled into protest.

"Look here! That's impossible. I couldn't pay you back within the next
three years."

"Did I say anything about paying me back?"

"_Desmond_--you don't mean----?"

Their eyes met, and Denvil was answered. He brought his fist down on
the bureau with such force that Evelyn's knick-knacks danced again.

"By God, I won't have it!" he protested passionately. "I'll not take
such a sum of money from you."

Desmond's smile showed both approval and amusement.

"No call for violence, Boy! I told you my mind was made up; and it's
folly wasting powder and shot against a stone wall."

"Look here, though--can you manage it--easily?"

"Yes, I can manage it." And in the rush of relief Harry failed to note
the significant omission of the adverb. "But it's to be a square
bargain between us. No more _shroffs_; no more betting, or I come down
on you like a ton of coals for my eight hundred. Stick to whist and
polo in playtime. Polish up your Pushtoo, and get into closer touch
with your Pathans. Start Persian with me, if you like, and replace
Roland with the money you get for passing. But first of all write to
your mother, and tell her the chief part of the truth. Not my share in
it, please. That remains between ourselves and--my wife. She'll
understand, never fear. Now--shake hands on that, and stick to it,
will you?"

"Desmond, you _are_ a trump!"

"No need for compliments between you and me, Harry. Shut up and get on
with your letter."

Then, because his mind was freed from anxiety, he realised that the
Boy's hand felt like hot parchment, and that his eyes were unusually
bright.

"You've got fever on you," he said brusquely. "Feel bad?"

"Pretty average. My head's been going like an engine these two days.
Couldn't eat anything yesterday or get a wink of sleep last night.
That's what set my conscience stirring perhaps."

Desmond laughed.

"Likely as not! I'm off for Mackay all the same. Get into my chair and
stay there till further orders. Don't bother your head about that
letter. It shan't miss the mail. I'll write it myself to-night."

An invisible reminder from the doorway that the Heaven-born's bath had
lo