uth in it."

"Tell me, _amico mio_."

Winfield was silent a second.

"Are you interested in her?" he asked.

The other shrugged his shoulders.

"In a way, yes. I live on her lands; she is--well, the good fairy of the
district. Yes, I am interested."

"I see no reason why I should not tell you," replied Winfield. "It is a
matter of six years ago now, and the man is dead."

"Dead, eh? Who was he?"

"A fellow by the name of Radford Leicester."

"A good fellow? A pattern young man, eh?"

"No; anything but that. Nevertheless I liked him. In many respects I
suppose I was his best friend--perhaps his only friend. But there, I'll
tell you. Leicester was a cynic, a drunkard, a man who, while I believe
he lived a clean, straight life, laughed at morality and truth and
virtue. A drunkard, did I say? Well, that is true and false at the same
time. He was a slave to drink, and yet he never appeared drunk. Well, he
had brilliant gifts, was a fine speaker, a close reasoner, and every one
believed that if he would give up his vice, he might become a great man.
As I said, he believed in nothing. He was an atheist, and scorned
virtue. One night I was sitting with him, and two others, and he was
taken to task for his----"

"Yes, I understand; go on."

"Well, he defended himself, and declared that there was no woman on
earth but had her price. The other two chaps, Sprague and Purvis by
name, defended the women. Then Leicester offered to make a wager that
he, a kind of pariah as he was, could win any woman they liked to name,
provided he was able to pay the price. Then I named Olive Castlemaine.
Leicester then offered to stake L100 that he would win her. He said that
although she knew him to be a drunkard, an atheist, a cynic, a despiser
of women, he would win her, by making her believe he would give her a
high place in the land. After he had won her, he was to----"

"What you call jilt her," suggested Ricordo, as he saw Winfield hesitate
for a word.

"Exactly. Well, he did win her. The day of the wedding was arranged.
Meanwhile, Sprague and Purvis believed he was simply seeking to win his
wager. Indeed, he confessed as much to them a week or so before the
wedding. For my own part, I believe that although Leicester began in
grim jest, he ended by being deadly in earnest."

"Yes, go on, my friend," said Ricordo, as the other paused. "I am
greatly interested in your story. More interested than you can imagine.
I will tell y