alth, but money-dealers were very
sharp-eyed people, and he found it much less easy to get his
promissory-notes cashed. It was a matter of etiquette to pay at once
"debts of honour," and his impetuous disposition led him to take bets so
freely that his ready money was generally drained away very soon after
his return. Not long before he had written to his father for a fresh
supply, but, to his great surprise, the letter had only produced an
angry and even indignant reproof. "Vyvyan," (his father had written--
not even `dear Vyvyan'), "I allow you 500 pounds a year, a sum totally
out of proportion with your wants, and yet you are so shamefully
extravagant as to write without a blush to ask me for more. Don't
presume to do it again on pain of my heavy displeasure." This letter
had so amazed him that he did not even answer it, nor, in spite of his
mother's earnest, urgent, and almost heart-rending entreaties, post by
post, would he even condescend to write home for many weeks. It was the
natural result of the way in which at home they had pampered his vanity,
and never checked his faults.

But, for these reasons, it was wholly out of Bruce's power to pay
Brogten the bet, if he failed in trying to shake the temperance of De
Vayne. He saw at once that he had mistaken his subject; he took De
Vayne for a man whose goodness and humility would make him pliant to all
designs.

A dark thought entered Bruce's mind.

He went alone into a druggist's shop, and said, with a languid air, "I
have been suffering very much from sleeplessness lately, Mr Brent; I
want you to give me a little laudanum."

"Very well, sir. You must be careful how you use it."

"Oh, of course. How many drops would make one drowsy, now?"

"Four or five, sir, I should think."

"Well, you must give me one of those little bottles full. I want to
have some by me, to save trouble."

The chemist filled the bottle, and then said, "I'm afraid I'm out of my
poison labels, sir. I'll just write a little ticket and tie it on."

"All right;" and putting it in his pocket, Bruce strolled away.

But how to see De Vayne again? He thought over their common
acquaintances, and at last fixed on Kennedy as the likeliest man on whom
he could depend to secure another meeting. Yet he hardly liked to
suggest that Kennedy should give a wine-party, and ask De Vayne and
himself; so that he was rather puzzled.

"I say, Brogten, how is it that we are always asking Ken