I looked up, flushed and excited, yet still sane enough to know his advice was good. In the strong sallow face of Major James Wolfe I read the same word. I knew the young soldier slightly and liked him with a great respect, though I could not know that this grave brilliant-eyed young man was later to become England's greatest soldier and hero. I had even pushed back my chair to rise from the table when the cool gibing voice of Volney cut in. "The eighth wonder of the world; Lord Balmerino in a new rôle--adviser to young men of fashion who incline to enjoy life. Are you by any chance thinking of becoming a ranting preacher, my Lord?" "I bid him do as I say and not as I have done. To point my case I cite myself as an evil example of too deep play." "Indeed, my Lord! Faith, I fancied you had in mind even deeper play for the future. A vastly interesting game, this of politics. You stake your head that you can turn a king and zounds! you play the deuce instead." Balmerino looked at him blackly out of a face cut in frowning marble, but Volney leaned back carelessly in his chair and his insolent eyes never flickered. As I say, I sat swithering 'twixt will and will-not. "Better come, Kenneth! The luck is against you to-night," urged Balmerino, his face relaxing as he turned to me. Major Wolfe said nothing, but his face too invited me. "Yes, better go back to school and be birched," sneered Volney. And at that I flung back into my seat with a curse, resolute to show him I was as good a man as he. My grim-faced guardian angel washed his hands of me with a Scotch proverb. "He that will to Cupar maun to Cupar. The lad will have to gang his ain gate," I heard him tell Wolfe as they strolled away. Still the luck held against me. Before I rose from the table two hours later I wrote out notes for a total so large that I knew the Grange must be mortgaged to the roof to satisfy it. Volney lolled in his chair and hid a yawn behind tapering pink finger-nails. "'Slife, you had a cursed run of the ivories to-night, Kenn! When are you for your revenge? Shall we say to-morrow? Egad, I'm ready to sleep round the clock. Who'll take a seat in my coach? I'm for home." I pushed into the night with a burning fever in my blood, and the waves of damp mist which enveloped London and beat upon me, gathering great drops of moisture on my cloak, did not suffice to cool the fire that burnt me up. The black dog Care hung heavy on my shoulders. I knew now what I had done. Fool that I was, I had mortgaged not only my own heritage but also the lives of my young brother Charles and my sister Cloe. Our father had died of apoplexy without a will, and a large part of his personal property had come to me with the entailed estate. The provision for the other two had been of the slightest, and now by this one wild night of play I had put it out of my power to take care of them. I had better clap a pistol to my head and be done with it.