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CHAPTER XXIX. SEWELL VISITS CAVE

Punctual to his appointment, Sewell appeared at breakfast the next morning with Colonel Cave. Of all the ill-humor and bad conduct of the night before, not a trace now was to be seen. He was easy, courteous, and affable. He even made a half-jesting apology for his late display of bad temper; attributing it to an attack of coming gout. “So long as the malady,” said he, “is in a state of menace, one’s nerves become so fine-strung that there is no name for the irritability; but when once a good honest seizure has taken place, a man recovers himself, and stands up to his suffering manfully and well.

“To-day, for instance,” said he, pointing to a shoe divided by long incisions, “I have got my enemy fixed, and I let him do his worst.”

The breakfast proceeded pleasantly; Cave was in admiration of his guest’s agreeability; for he talked away, not so much of things as of people. He had in a high degree that-man-of-the-world gift of knowing something about every one. No name could turn up of which he could not tell you something the owner of it had said or done, and these “scratch” biographies are often very amusing, particularly when struck off with the readiness of a practised talker.

It was not, then, merely that Sewell obliterated every memory of the evening before, but he made Cave forget the actual object for which he had come that morning. Projects, besides, for future pleasure did Sewell throw out, like a man who had both the leisure, the means, and the taste for enjoyment. There was some capital shooting he had just taken; his neighbor, an old squire, had never cared for it, and let him have it “for a song.” They were going to get up hack races, too, in the Park, – “half-a-dozen hurdles and a double ditch to tumble over,” as he said, “will amuse our garrison fellows, – and my wife has some theatrical intentions – if you will condescend to help her.”

Sewell talked with that blended munificence and shiftiness, which seems a specialty with a certain order of men. Nothing was too costly to be done, and yet everything must be accomplished with a dexterity that was almost a dodge. The men of this gift are great scene-painters. They dash you off a view – be it a wood or a rich interior, a terraced garden or an Alpine hut – in a few loose touches. Ay! and they “smudge” them out again before criticism has had time to deal with them. “By the way,” cried he, suddenly, stopping in the full swing of some description of a possible regatta, “I was half forgetting what brought me here this morning. I am in your debt, Cave.”

He stopped as though his speech needed some rejoinder, and Cave grew very red and very uneasy – tried to say something – anything – but could not. The fact was, that, like a man who had never in all his life adventured on high play or risked a stake that could possibly be of importance to him, he felt pretty much the same amount of distress at having won as he would have felt at having lost. He well knew that if by any mischance he had incurred such a loss as a thousand pounds, it would have been a most serious embarrassment – by what right, then, had he won it? Now, although feelings of this sort were about the very last to find entrance into Sewell’s heart, he well knew that there were men who were liable to them, just as there were people who were exposed to plague or yellow fever, and other maladies from which he lived remote. It was, then, with a sort of selfish delight that he saw Cave’s awkward hesitating manner, and read the marks of the shame that was overwhelming him.

“A heavy sum too,” said Sewell, jauntily; “we went the whole ‘pot’ on that last rubber.”

“I wish I could forget it – I mean,” muttered Cave, “I wish we could both forget it.”

“I have not the least objection to that,” said Sewell gayly; “only let it first be paid.”

“Well, but – what I meant was – what I wanted to say, or rather, what I hoped – was – in plain words, Sewell,” burst he out, like a man to whom desperation gave courage, – “in plain words, I never intended to play such stakes as we played last night, – I never have – I never will again.”

“Not to give me my revenge?” said Sewell, laughing.

“No, not for anything. I don’t know what I ‘d have done – I don’t know what would have become of me – if I had lost; and I pledge you my honor, I think the next worst thing is to have won.”

“Do you, by George!”

“I do, upon my sacred word of honor. My first thoughts on waking this morning were more wretched than they have been for any day in the last twenty years of life, for I was thoroughly ashamed of myself.”

“You ‘ll not find many men afflicted with your malady, Cave; and, at all events, it’s not contagious.”

“I know nothing about that,” said Cave, half irritably; “I never was a play man, and have little pretension to understand their feelings.”

“They have n’t got any,” said Sewell, as he lit his cigar.

“Perhaps not; so much the worse for them. I can only say, if the misery of losing be only proportionate to the shame of winning, I don’t envy a gambler. Such an example, too, to exhibit to my young officers! It was too bad – too bad.”

“I declare I don’t understand this,” said Sewell, carelessly; “when I commanded a battalion, I never imagined I was obliged to be a model to the subs or the junior captains.” The tone of banter went, this time, to the quick; and Cave flushed a deep crimson, and said, – “I’m not sorry that my ideas of my duty are different; though, in the present case, I have failed to fulfil it.”

“Well, well, there’s nothing to grow angry about,” said Sewell, laughing, “even though you won’t give me my revenge. My present business is to book up;” and, as he spoke, he sat down at the table, and drew a roll of papers from his pocket and laid it before him.

“You distress me greatly by all this, Sewell,” said Cave, whose agitation now almost overcame him. “Cannot we hit upon some way? can’t we let it lie over? I mean, – is there no arrangement by which this cursed affair can be deferred? You understand me?”

“Not in the least. Such things are never deferred without loss of honor to the man in default. The stake that a man risks is supposed to be in his pocket, otherwise play becomes trade, and accepts all the vicissitudes of trade.”

“It’s the first time I ever heard them contrasted to the disparagement of honest industry.”

“And I call billiards, tennis, whist, and écarté honest industries, too, though I won’t call them trades. There, there,” said he, laughing at the other’s look of displeasure, “don’t be afraid; I am not going to preach these doctrines to your young officers, for whose morals you are so much concerned. Sit down here, and just listen to me for one moment.”

Cave obeyed, but his face showed in every feature how reluctantly.

“I see, Cave,” said Sewell, with a quiet smile, – “I see you want to do me a favor, – so you shall. I am obliged to own that I am an exception to the theory I have just now enunciated. I staked a thousand pounds, and I had not the money in my pocket. Wait a moment, – don’t interrupt me. I had not the money in gold or bank-notes, but I had it here” – and he touched the papers before him – “in a form equally solvent, only that it required that he who won the money should be not a mere acquaintance, but a friend, – a friend to whom I could speak with freedom and in confidence. This,” said he, “is a bond for twelve hundred pounds, given by my wife’s guardian in satisfaction of a loan once made to him; he was a man of large fortune, which he squandered away recklessly, leaving but a small estate, which he could neither sell nor alienate. Upon this property this is a mortgage. As an old friend of my father-in-law, – a very unworthy one, by the way, – I could of course not press him for the interest, and, as you will see, it has never been paid; and there is now a balance of some hundred pounds additional against him. Of this I could not speak, for another reason, – we are not without the hope of inheriting something by him, and to allude to this matter would be ruinous. Keep this, then. I insist upon it. I declare to you, if you refuse, I will sell it to-morrow to the first moneylender I can find, and send you my debt in hard cash. I ‘ve been a play-man all my life, but never a defaulter.”

There was a tone of proud indignation in the way he spoke that awed Cave to silence; for in good truth he was treating of themes of which he knew nothing whatever: and of the sort of influences which swayed gamblers, of the rules that guided and the conventionalities that bound them, he was profoundly ignorant.

“You ‘ll not get your money, Cave,” resumed Sewell, “till this old fellow dies; but you will be paid at last, – of that I can assure you. Indeed, if by any turn of luck I was in funds myself, I ‘d like to redeem it. All I ask is, therefore, that you ‘ll not dispose of it, but hold it over in your own possession till the day – and I hope it may be an early one – it will be payable.”

Cave was in no humor to dispute anything. There was no condition to which he would not have acceded, so heartily ashamed and abashed was he by the position in which he found himself. What he really would have liked best, would have been to refuse the bond altogether, and say, Pay when you like, how you like, or, better still, not at all. This of course was not possible, and he accepted the terms proposed to him at once.

“It shall be all as you wish,” said he, hurriedly. “I will do everything you desire; only let me assure you that I would infinitely rather this paper remained in your keeping than in mine. I’m a careless fellow about documents,” added he, trying to put the matter on the lesser ground of a safe custody. “Well, well, say no more; you don’t wish it, and that’s enough.”

“I must be able to say,” said Sewell, gravely, “that I never lost over night what I had not paid the next morning; and I will even ask of you to corroborate me so far as this transaction goes. There were several of your fellows at my house last night; they saw what we played for, and that I was the loser. There will be – there always is – plenty of gossip about these things, and the first question is, ‘Has he-booked up?’ I’m sure it’s not asking more than you are ready to do, to say that I paid my debt within twenty-four hours.”

“Certainly; most willingly. I don’t know that any one has a right to question me on the matter.”

“I never said he had. I only warned you how people will talk, and how necessary it is to be prepared to stifle a scandal even before it has flared out.”

“It shall be cared for. I’ll do exactly as you wish,” said Cave, who was too much flurried to know what was asked of him, and to what he was pledged.

“I’m glad this is off my mind,” said Sewell, with a long sigh of relief. “I lay awake half the night thinking of it; for there are scores of fellows who are not of your stamp, and who would be for submitting these documents to their lawyer, and asking, Heaven knows, what this affair related to. Now I tell you frankly, I ‘d have given no explanations. He who gave that bond is, as I know, a consummate rascal, and has robbed me – that is, my wife – out of two-thirds of her fortune; but my hands are tied regarding him. I could n’t touch him, except he should try to take my life, – a thing, by the way, he is quite capable of. Old Dillon, my wife’s father, believed him to be the best and truest of men, and my wife inherited this belief, even in the face of all the injuries he had worked us. She went on saying, ‘My father always said, “Trust Fossy: there’s at least one man in the world that will never deceive you.’””

“What was the name you said?” asked Cave, quickly.

“Oh, only a nickname. I don’t want to mention his name. I have sealed up the bond, with this superscription, – ‘Colonel Sewell’s bond.’ I did this believing you would not question me farther; but if you desire to read it over, I ‘ll break the envelope at once.”

“No, no; nothing of the kind. Leave it just as it is.”

“So that,” said Sewell, pursuing his former line of thought, “this man not alone defrauded me, but he sowed dissension between me and my wife. Her faith is shaken in him, I have no doubt, but she ‘ll not confess it. Like a genuine woman, she will persist in asserting the convictions she has long ceased to be held by, and quote this stupid letter of her father in the face of every fact.

“I ought not to have got into these things,” said Sewell, as he walked impatiently down the room. “These family bedevilments should be kept from one’s friends; but the murder is out now, and you can see how I stand – and see besides, that if I am not always able to control my temper, a friend might find an excuse for me.”

Cave gave a kindly nod of assent to this, not wishing, even by a word, to increase the painful embarrassment of the scene.

“Heigh ho!” cried Sewell, throwing himself down in a chair, “there’s one care off my heart, at least! I can remember a time when a night’s bad luck would n’t have cost me five minutes of annoyance; but nowadays I have got it so hot and so heavy from fortune, I begin not to know myself.” Then, with a sudden change of tone, he added: “When are you coming out to us again? Shall we say Tuesday?”

“We are to be inspected on Tuesday. Trafford writes me that he is coming over with General Halkett, – whom, by the way, he calls a Tartar, – and says, ‘If the Sewells are within hail, say a kind word to them on my part.’”

“A good sort of fellow, Trafford,” said Sewell, carelessly.

“An excellent fellow, – no better living!”

“A very wide-awake one too,” said Sewell, with one eye closed, and a look of intense cunning.

“I never thought so. It is, to my notion, to the want of that faculty he owes every embarrassment he has ever suffered. He is unsuspecting to a fault.”

“It’s not the way I read him; though, perhaps, I think as well of him as you do. I ‘d say that for his years he is one of the very shrewdest young fellows I ever met.”

“You astonish me! May I ask if you know him well?”

“Our acquaintance is not of very old date, but we saw a good deal of each other at the Cape. We rode out frequently, dined, played, and conversed freely together; and the impression he made upon me was that every sharp lesson the world had given him he ‘d pay back one day or other with a compound interest.”

“I hope not, – I fervently hope not!” cried Cave. “I had rather hear to-morrow that he had been duped and cheated out of half his fortune than learn he had done one act that savored of the – the – ” He stopped, unable to finish, for he could not hit upon the word that might be strong enough for his meaning, and yet not imply an offence.

“Say blackleg. Is n’t that what you want? There’s my wife’s pony chaise. I ‘ll get a seat back to the Nest. Goodbye, Cave. If Wednesday is open, give it to us, and tell Trafford I’d be glad to see him.”

Cave sat down as the door closed after the other, and tried to recall his thoughts to something like order. What manner of man was that who had just left him? It was evidently a very mixed nature. Was it the good or the evil that predominated? Was the unscrupulous tone he displayed the result of a spirit of tolerance, or was it the easy indifference of one who trusted nothing, – believed nothing?

Was it possible his estimate of Trafford could be correct? and could this seemingly generous and open manner cover a nature cold, calculating, and treacherous? No, no. That he felt to be totally out of the question.

He thought long and intently over the matter, but to no end; and as he arose to deposit the papers left by Sewell in his writing-desk, he felt as unsettled and undecided as when he started on the inquiry.

CHAPTER XXX. THE RACES ON THE LAWN

A bright October morning, with a blue sky and a slight, very slight feeling of frost in the air, and a gay meeting on foot and horseback on the lawn before the Swan’s Nest, made as pretty a picture as a painter of such scenes could desire. I say of such scenes, because in the tableau de genre it is the realistic element that must predominate, and the artist’s skill is employed in imparting to very commonplace people and costumes whatever poetry can be lent them by light and shade, by happy groupings, and, more than all these, by the insinuation of some incident in which they are the actors, – a sort of storied interest pervading the whole canvas, which gives immense pleasure to those who have little taste for the fine arts.

There was plenty of color even in the landscape. The mountains had put on their autumn suit, and displayed every tint from a pale opal to a deep and gorgeous purple, while the river ran on in those circling eddies which come to the surface of water under sunshine as naturally as smiles to the face of flattered beauty.

Colonel Sewell had invited the country-side to witness hack-races in his grounds, and the country-side had heartily responded to the invitation. There were the county magnates in grand equipages, – an earl with two postilions and outriders, a high sheriff with all his official splendors, squires of lower degree in more composite vehicles, and a large array of jaunting-cars, through all of which figured the red coats of the neighboring garrison, adding to the scene that tint of warmth in color so dear to the painter’s heart.

The wonderful beauty of the spot, combining, as it did, heath-clad mountain, and wood, and winding river, with a spreading lake in the distance, dotted with picturesque islands, was well seconded by a glorious autumnal day, – one of those days when the very air has something of champagne in its exhilarating quality, and gives to every breath of it a sense of stimulation.

The first three races – they were on the flat – had gone off admirably. They were well contested, well ridden, and the “right horse” the winner. All was contentment, therefore, on every side, to which the interval of a pleasant moment of conviviality gave hearty assistance, for now came the hour of luncheon; and from the “swells” in the great marquée, and the favored intimates in the dining-room, to the assembled unknown in the jaunting-cars, merry laughter issued, with clattering of plates and popping of corks, and those commingled sounds of banter and jollity which mark such gatherings.

The great event of the day was, however, yet to come off. It was a hurdle race, to which two stiff fences were to be added, in the shape of double ditches, to test the hunting powers of the horses. The hurdles were to be four feet eight in height, so that the course was by no means a despicable one, even to good cross-country riders. To give increased interest to the race, Sewell himself was to ride, and no small share of eagerness existed amongst the neighboring gentry to see how the new-comer would distinguish himself in the saddle, – some opining he was too long of leg; some, that he was too heavy; some, that men of his age – he was over five-and-thirty – begin to lose nerve; and many going so far as to imply “that he did not look like riding,” – a judgment whose vagueness detracts nothing from its force.

“There he goes now, and he sits well down too!” cried one, as a group of horsemen swept past, one of whom, mounted on a “sharp” pony, led the way, a white macintosh and loose overalls covering him from head to foot. They were off to see that the fences were all being properly put up, and in an instant were out of sight.

“I’ll back Tom Westenra against Sewell for a twenty-pound note,” cried one, standing up on the seat of his car to proclaim the challenge.

“I’ll go further,” shouted another, – “I ‘ll do it for fifty.”

“I ‘ll beat you both,” cried out a third, – “I ‘ll take Tom even against the field.”

The object of all this enthusiasm was a smart, cleanshaven little fellow, with a good blue eye, and a pleasant countenance, who smoked his cigar on the seat of a drag near, and nodded a friendly recognition to their confidence.

“If Joe Slater was well of his fall, I ‘d rather have him than any one in the county,” said an old farmer, true to a man of his own class and standing.

“Here’s one can beat them both!” shouted another; “here’s Mr. Creagh of Liskmakerry!” and a thin, ruddy-faced, keen-eyed man of about fifty rode by on a low-sized horse, with that especial look of decision in his mouth, and a peculiar puckering about the corners that seem to belong to those who traffic in horse-flesh, and who, it would appear, however much they may know about horses, understand humanity more thoroughly still.

“Are you going to ride, Creagh?” cried a friend from a high tax-cart.

“Maybe so, if the fences are not too big for me;” and a very malicious drollery twinkled in his gray eye.

“Faix, and if they are,” said a farmer, “the rest may stay at home.”

“I hope you ‘ll ride, Creagh,” said the first speaker, “and not let these English fellows take the shine out of us. Yourself and Tom are the only county names on the card.”

“Show it to me,” said Creagh, listlessly; and he took the printed list in his hand and conned it over, as though it had all been new to him. “They ‘re all soldiers, I see,” said he. “It’s Major This, and Captain That – Who is the lady?” This question was rapidly called forth by a horsewoman who rode past at an easy canter in the midst of a group of men. She was dressed in a light-gray habit and hat of the same color, from which a long white feather encircling the hat hung on one side.

“That’s Mrs. Sewell, – what do you think of her riding?”

“If her husband has as neat a hand, I ‘d rather he was out of the course. She knows well what she ‘s about.”

“They say there’s not her equal in the park in London.”

“That’s not park riding; that’s something very different, take my word for it. She could lead half the men here across the country.”

Nor was she unworthy of the praise, as, with her hand low, her head a little forward, but her back well curved in, she sat firmly down in her saddle; giving to the action of the horse that amount of movement that assisted the animal, but never more. The horse was mettlesome enough to require all her attention. It was his first day under a sidesaddle, and he chafed at it, and when the heavy skirt smote his flank, bounded with a lunge and a stroke of his head that showed anger.

“That’s a four-hundred guinea beast she ‘s on. He belongs to the tall young fellow that’s riding on her left.”

“I like his own horse better, – the liver-chestnut with the short legs. I wish I had a loan of him for the hurdle-race.”

“Ask him, Phil; or get the mistress there to ask him,” said another, laughing. “I ‘m mighty mistaken or he wouldn’t refuse her.”

“Oh, is that it?” said Creagh, with a knowing look.

“So they tell me here, for I don’t know one of them myself; but the story goes that she was to have married that young fellow when Sewell earned her off.”

“I must go and get a better look at her,” said Creagh, as he spurred his horse and cantered away.

“Is any one betting?” said little Westenra, as he descended from his seat on the drag. “I have not seen a man to-day with five pounds on the race.”

“Here’s Sewell,” muttered another; “he’s coming up now, and will give or take as much as you like.”

“Did you see Mrs. Sewell, any of you?” asked Sewell, cavalierly, as he rode up with an open telegram in his hand; and as the persons addressed were for the most part his equals, none responded to the insolent demand.

“Could you tell me, sir,” said Sewell, quickly altering his tone, while he touched his hat to Westenra, “if Mrs. Sewell passed this way?”

“I haven’t the honor to know Mrs. Sewell, but I saw a lady ride past, about ten minutes ago, on a black thoroughbred.”

“Faix, and well she rode him too,” broke in an old farmer.

“She took the posy out of that young gentleman’s button-hole, while her beast was jumping, and stuck it in her breast, as easy as I ‘m sitting here.”

Sewel’s face grew purple as he darted a look of savage anger at the speaker, and, turning his horse’s head, he dashed out at speed and disappeared.

“Peter Delaney,” said Westenra, “I thought you had more discretion than to tell such a story as that.”

“Begorra, Mister Tom! I didn’t know the mischief I was making till I saw the look he gave me!”

It was not till after a considerable search that Sewell came up with his wife’s party, who were sauntering leisurely along the river-side, through a gorse-covered slope.

“I ‘ve had a devil of a hunt after you!” he cried, as he rode up, and the ringing tone of his voice was enough to intimate to her in what temper he spoke. “I ‘ve something to say to you,” said he, as though meant for her private ear; and the others drew back, and suffered them to ride on together. “There ‘s a telegram just come from that old beast the Chief Baron; he desires to see me to-night. The last train leaves at five, and I shall only hit it by going at once. Can’t you keep your horse quiet, Madam, or must you show off while I ‘m speaking to you?”

“It was the furze that stung him,” said she, coldly, and not showing the slightest resentment at his tone.

“If the old bear means anything short of dying, and leaving me his heir, this message is a shameful swindle.”

“Do you mean to go?” asked she, coldly.

“I suppose so; that is,” added he, with a bitter grin, “if I can tear myself away from you;” but she only smiled.

“I ‘ll have to pay a forfeit in this match,” continued he, “and my book will be all smashed, besides. I say,” cried he, “would Trafford ride for me?”

“Perhaps he would.”

“None of your mock indifference, Madam. I can’t afford to lose a thousand pounds every time you have a whim. Ay, look astonished if you like! but if you had n’t gone into the billiard-room on Saturday evening and spoiled my match, I ‘d have escaped that infernal whist-table. Listen to me now! Tell him that I have been sent for suddenly, – it might be too great a risk for me to refuse to go, – and ask him to ride Crescy; if he says Yes, – and he will say yes if you ask him as you ought,” – her cheek grew crimson as he uttered the last word with a strong emphasis, – “tell him to take up my book. Mind you use the words ‘take up;’ he’ll understand you.”

“But why not say all this yourself? – he ‘s riding close behind at this minute.”

“Because I have a wife, Madam, who can do it so much better; because I have a wife who plucks a carnation out of a man’s coat, and wears it in her bosom, and this on an open race-course, where people can talk of it! and a woman with such rare tact ought to be of service to her husband, eh?” She swayed to and fro in her saddle for an instant as though about to fall, but she grasped the horn with both hands and saved herself.

“Is that all?” muttered she, faintly.

“Not quite. Tell Trafford to come round to my dressing-room, and I ‘ll give him a hint or two about the horse. He must come at once, for I have only time to change my clothes and start. You can make some excuse to the people for my absence; say that the old Judge has had another attack, and I only wish it may be true. Tell them I got a telegram, and that may mean anything. Trafford will help you to do the honors, and I ‘ll swear him in as viceroy before I go. Is n’t that all that could be asked of me?” The insolence of his look as he said this made her turn away her head as though sickened and disgusted.

“They want you at the weighing-stand, Colonel Sewell,” said a gentleman, riding up.

“Oh, they do! Well, say, please, that I ‘m coming. Has he given you that black horse?” asked he, in a hurried whisper.

“No; he offered him, but I refused.”

“You had no right to refuse; he’s strong enough to carry me; and the ponies that I saw led round to the stable-yard, whose are they?”

“They are Captain Trafford’s.”

“You told him you thought them handsome, I suppose, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I think them very beautiful.”

“Well, don’t take them as a present. Win them if you like at piquet or écarté, – any way you please, but don’t take them as a gift, for I heard Westenra say they were meant for you.”

She nodded; and as she bent her head, a smile, the very strangest, crossed her features. If it were not that the pervading expression of her face was at the instant melancholy, the look she gave him would have been almost devilish.

“I have something else to say, but I can’t remember it.”

“You don’t know when you’ll be back?” asked she, carelessly.

“Of course not, – how can I? I can only promise that I’ll not arrive unexpectedly, Madam; and I take it that’s as much as any gentleman can be called on to say. Bye-bye.”

“Good-bye,” said she, in the same tone.

“I see that Mr. Balfour is here. I can’t tell who asked him; but mind you don’t invite him to luncheon; take no notice of him whatever; he’ll not bet a guinea; never plays; never risks anything, – even his affections!”

“What a creature!”

“Isn’t he! There! I’ll not detain you from pleasanter company; good-bye; see you here when I come back, I suppose?”

“Most probably,” said she, with a smile; and away he rode, at a tearing gallop, for his watch warned him that he was driven to the last minute.

“My husband has been sent for to town, Captain Traf-ford,” said she, turning her head towards him as he resumed his place at her side; “the Chief Baron desires to see him immediately, and he sets off at once.”

“And his race? What ‘s to become of his match?”

“He said I was to ask you to ride for him.”

“Me – I ride! Why, I am two stone heavier than he is.”

“I suppose he knew that,” said she, coldly, and as if the matter was one of complete indifference to her. “I am only delivering a message,” continued she, in the same careless tone; “he said, ‘Ask Captain Trafford to ride for me and take up my book; ‘I was to be particular about the phrase ‘take up;’ I conclude you will know what meaning to attach to it.”

“I suspect I do,” said he, with a low soft laugh.

“And I was to add something about hints he was to give you, if you ‘d go round to his dressing-room at once; indeed, I believe you have little time to spare.”

“Yes, I’ll go, – I ‘ll go now; only there ‘s one thing I ‘d like to ask – that is – I’d be very glad to know – ”