be forthcoming. He was prepared to
recommend his son to go on with the affair still a little longer. 'Old
Cure tells me he doesn't believe a word of it,' said the father. Cure
was the family lawyer of the Marquises of Auld Reekie.

'There's some hitch about Dolly Longestaffe's money, sir,' said the
son.

'What's that to us if he has our money ready? I suppose it isn't
always easy even for a man like that to get a couple of hundred
thousand together. I know I've never found it easy to get a thousand.
If he has borrowed a trifle from Longestaffe to make up the girl's
money, I shan't complain. You stand to your guns. There's no harm done
till the parson has said the word.'

'You couldn't let me have a couple of hundred;--could you, sir?'
suggested the son.

'No, I couldn't,' replied the father with a very determined aspect.

'I'm awfully hard up.'

'So am I.' Then the old man toddled into his own chamber, and after
sitting there ten minutes went away home.

Lord Nidderdale also got quickly through his legislative duties and
went to the Beargarden. There he found Grasslough and Miles Grendall
dining together, and seated himself at the next table. They were full
of news. 'You've heard it, I suppose,' said Miles in an awful whisper.

'Heard what?'

'I believe he doesn't know!' said Lord Grasslough. 'By Jove,
Nidderdale, you're in a mess like some others.'

'What's up now?'

'Only fancy that they shouldn't have known down at the House! Vossner
has bolted!'

'Bolted!' exclaimed Nidderdale, dropping the spoon with which he was
just going to eat his soup.

'Bolted,' repeated Grasslough. Lord Nidderdale looked round the room
and became aware of the awful expression of dismay which hung upon the
features of all the dining members. 'Bolted, by George! He has sold
all our acceptances to a fellow in Great Marlbro' that's called
"Flatfleece".'

'I know him,' said Nidderdale shaking his head.

'I should think so,' said Miles ruefully.

'A bottle of champagne!' said Nidderdale, appealing to the waiter in
almost a humble voice, feeling that he wanted sustenance in this new
trouble that had befallen him. The waiter, beaten almost to the ground
by an awful sense of the condition of the club, whispered to him the
terrible announcement that there was not a bottle of champagne in the
house. 'Good G----,' exclaimed the unfortunate nobleman. Miles Grendall
shook his head. Grasslough shook his head.

'It's true,' said ano