ut it would only be
like business and I should never presume, you know."

"I must think about it, Orthur; I must think about it," said the butler,
importantly.

"Do, sir; and I wouldn't lose no time about it. You see, we can't do
much when we're down at The Towers, and the Randan Stakes is on next
week."

"H'm, yes," said the butler, relaxing a little, and condescending to a
smile. "Orthur, I've got a sovereign on the favourite."

"You have, sir? What! on Ajax?"

"That's right, my lad; and I advise you to put half-a-crown or five
shillings on 'im too. There's a tip for you."

"Yah!" ejaculated the footman in disgust. "I wouldn't put the price of
a glass of ale on that 'orse."

"Eh, why?" cried the butler, looking startled.

"'Cause Ajax won't run."

"What? How do you know?"

"I heard the guv'nor tell the little 'un so last night, and that he was
to back Ducrow."

"Phew!" whistled the butler.

"Put two quids on Ducrow, sir, and it'll be all right. I've got ten
shillings on, and I'd have made it two tens if I'd had a friend who'd
ha' lent me the coin."

"Orthur," whispered the butler, effusively; "you're a good lad, and I'll
lend you the money."

"You will, sir? And go on as I said?"

The butler nodded.

"Carriage, sir," said the footman, sharply, and they both drew back into
the hall ready for the brougham which was driven up, and from which two
ladies descended.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

FACE TO FACE AGAIN.

"That's the house," said Chester to himself; "I can swear to it.
Highcombe Street, Number 44."

He laughed in his excitement--an unpleasant, harsh laugh which startled
him; for as a doctor he had had to deal with strange patients beside the
one at the mysterious house, and he knew pretty well how a man acted who
had been overwrought and whose nerves were in that state which borders
upon insanity.

"This will not do," he muttered. "I must be careful," and, trying to
pull himself together and make his plans in a matter-of-fact way, his
startled feeling grew into a sensation of alarm, and he awakened fully
now to the fact that the strain from which he had suffered had been too
great.

"I must pull up short," he said to himself. "This last month I have
been acting like a madman. Well, love--the real passion--is a kind of
madness, and I could not have acted otherwise with the horror of the
position in which I left her upon my mind."

As he walked home, though, he grew cooler, an