being lifted. You can lay what you like on him, my dear fellow, and you
will have no difficulty in finding takers."

"Oh!" commented Adrien, almost listlessly. "Something better in the
field, I suppose? I thought the roan was not to be touched."

"And I, also," said Mortimer Shelton; "I can't understand it! The only
new entry was a weedy chestnut, listed by a Yorkshireman in the
afternoon. 'Holdfast' they call him."

"He'll require more hustling than holding," returned Paxhorn
sarcastically.

Lord Standon finished his wine.

"I'll back the roan while there's a penny to borrow," he said with
sublime confidence. "There's nothing can touch him."

"That's what Jasper said," remarked Leroy, "and he ought to know."

"Oh, yes, he's a good judge of a horse," grudgingly admitted Shelton,
who frankly hated him; "and of men too--when it pays him."

Leroy's face darkened slightly. Vermont was his friend, and he resented
a word spoken against him far more than he would have done one against
himself.

"You misjudge him, Shelton," he said briefly.

"Possibly," retorted the other, unabashed. "What you find so fascinating
in him I can't imagine. Still, my dear fellow, setting Vermont aside,
there can be no two opinions respecting your chef. Sarteri is a
possession I positively envy you. There is not another chef in England
that understands entrees as he does."

"None," echoed Lord Standon. "Leroy will be famous for one thing, at
least, if it's only for his cook."

The meal came to an end, and the table was cleared by the silent
Norgate. Cards were produced, and the four were soon deep in the
intricacies of bridge. They played high and recklessly; and after little
more than an hour, Shelton and Leroy had lost over five hundred pounds.

"A close run, eh, Shelton?" laughed Leroy as he took the notes from an
open drawer. "Had they played the knave we should have won. Time for
another round?"

"Not I," replied his friend, with a regretful shake of his head. "I'm
due at Lady Martingdale's."

"Picture galleries again?" laughed Standon, who knew that lady's
weaknesses.

"Yes," Shelton confessed, "and with Miss Martingdale too."

The others laughed significantly.

"Say no more, Mortimer," begged Lord Standon, with mock grief. "Your
days are numbered. Already I see myself enacting the part of chief
mourner--I should say, best man--if you will allow me."

Shelton rose, laughing good-humouredly.

"Thanks, I'll remember--