"_You_ want them?" she said, as if mystified; then her face grew crimson
for an instant, but paled again as she leant forward. "You mean--you
can't mean, Percy, that you would _sell_ the diamonds? Oh, I see what
that telegram means; you've been betting again! You promised me you
wouldn't. But a promise isn't much to you. You've been betting again,
and you've lost a great deal of money."

"You've guessed it right the very first time," he said, with an attempt
at a laugh; but the sweat had gathered on his forehead and he wiped it
away with a shaking hand. "It's Skylark. He was a dead certainty; I got
the tip straight from the stable; they must have pulled him; they must
have sold me. But I've got to pay up; I've _got_ to. Do you hear? If I
can't find the money by Monday week, I shall be posted. I suppose you
know what that means?"

"You'll be ruined," she said in a low voice.

"Cut by everybody; chucked out of every club, marked for life. Yes;
sounds pretty black, doesn't it?"

"Is there no other way of getting the money?" she asked, wearily.

He shook his head. "If you knew anything at all, you'd know there
isn't," he said, sullenly. "The old man has just paid some biggish debts
for me. That was what the row was about the other night. He warned me
that it was the last I'd have from him for some time, and he'll keep his
word. Curse him!"

Miriam, accustomed as she was to his bad language, shrank.

"Percy! Your own father!" she whispered, with a shudder.

"Oh, don't go into heroics!" he said. "You'd curse everything and
everybody, if you were in the plight I am. And look here, you've got to
help me. You and the old man have been getting on better than I
expected; if he hasn't taken a downright fancy to you, he's got used to
you and treats you civilly. Can't you give him a hint about the
diamonds? See here!" He leant forward, his hand gripping the table, the
sweat gathering on his face again, his weak eyes bulging in his terrible
eagerness. "I could raise money enough on the things to tide me over
this bit of bad luck until I struck a winner. Directly he'd given them
to you, we'd go up to town; he wouldn't know whether you were wearing
them or not. But there! if it comes to that, we could easily get them
copied in paste; they imitate them so closely you can't tell the real
from the sham. Fact. Why, half the women in London are wearing shams,
and nobody's any the wiser."

She rose, her hand clutching at the lac