t, at first not very successful, became
easier after a moment, and it was with a resumption of his old manner he
said,--

"I 'll take you two to one in fifties that I act the host here this day
twelvemonth."

"You hear the offer, gentlemen?" said Frobisher, addressing the party.
"Of course it is meant without any reservation, and so I take it."

He produced a betting-book as he said this, and began to write in it
with his pencil.

"Would you prefer it in hundreds?" said Linton.

Frobisher nodded an assent.

"Or shall we do the thing sportingly, and say two thousand to one?"
continued he.

"Two thousand to one be it," said Frobisher, while the least possible
smile might be detected on his usually immovable features. "There is
no knowing how to word this bet," said he, at last, after two or three
efforts, followed by as many erasures; "you must write it yourself."

Linton took the pencil, and wrote rapidly for a few seconds.

"Will that do?" said he.

And Frobisher read to himself: "'Mr. Linton, two thousand to one with
Lord C. Frobisher, that he, T. L., on the anniversary of this day, shall
preside as master of the house Tubbermore, by due right and title, and
not by any favor, grace, or sanction of any one whatsoever."

"Yes; that will do, perfectly," said Frobisher, as he closed the book,
and restored it to his pocket.

"Was the champagne so strong as you expected?" whispered Upton, as he
passed behind Frobisher's chair.

A very knowing nod of acquiescence was the only reply.

[Illustration: 146]

Indeed, it did not require the practised shrewdness of Lord Charles, or
his similarly sharp-eyed friends, to see that Linton's manner was very
different from his habitual calm collectedness, while he continued
to drink on, with the air of a man that was resolved on burying his
faculties in the excitement of wine.

Meek slipped away soon after, and, at Linton's suggestion a
rouge-et-noir bank was formed, at which the play became high, and his
own losses very considerable.

It was already daylight, and the servants were stirring in the house ere
the party broke up.

"Master Tom has had a squeeze to-night," said Jennings, as he was
bidding Upton good-bye at his door.

"I can't understand it at all," replied the other. "He played without
judgment, and betted rashly on every side. It was far more like Roland
Cashel than Tom Linton."

"Well, you remember he said--to be sure, it was after drinking a
quant