elation had given him.

"Good heavens!" he stammered. "I had no idea--no idea of such a thing."

"No; I know you hadn't--I was sure you hadn't." Her voice thrilled with
quick relief.

"No, no. Certainly not. But tell me about it. Dear me!--dear me! I had
no idea of such a thing."

"Oh, it began ages ago--before mother died. Burke says 'twas the
life--the quiet life after England. He came home, you know, when his
father died, and he found the place in a bad way. He has never been
rich enough to live out of the country, and he has never stopped
fretting for the things that aren't here. But while mother lived he
kept pretty good; 'twas after she died that he seemed not to care.
First he got gloomy and sad, then he got reckless and terrible. People
were frightened of him. His friends began to drop away."

She paused for a moment, glancing down into the hall to assure herself
that all was quiet.

"It's been the same ever since. Sometimes he's gloomy and depressed,
other times he's wild, like to-night. And when he's wild, he's mad for
cards. Oh, you don't know what it's like! It's like being a
drunkard--only different--and worse. When he's like that, he'd play
with any one--for anything. Last week he had a dreadful man--a
horse-dealer from Muskeere--staying here with him for three days. They
played cards every night--played till three or four in the morning.
Father lost all the ready money in the house, and nearly emptied the
stables."

Milbanke stood before her horrified and absorbed. An understanding of
many things, before obscure, had come to him while she was speaking;
and with the knowledge, a sudden deep pity for this child of his old
friend--a sudden sense of guilt at his own blindness, his own weakness.

"Miss Clodagh," he said quickly, in his stiff, formal voice. Then he
paused, as she raised her hand with a sharp gesture of attention.

A heavy step sounded on the gravel outside the house. There was an
instant's hesitation; then Clodagh leant forward with swift presence of
mind and blew out the three remaining candles.

"You understand now?" she whispered.

"Yes," he murmured, below his breath. "Yes; I understand."

A moment later he heard her flit down the corridor, and heard Asshlin
open the heavy outer door.

CHAPTER V

Thus it was that James Milbanke entered on his first night at
Orristown. The surprise, the excitement, and the culminating incident
of the evening would have been disturbi