"The opportunity came, to my mind, in this big tournament. I had no difficulty of getting odds in six or seven to one to far more than I was able to pay if I lost. Phil came into the scheme with me--she knows all about me, you know--and we both regarded it as a certainty. Then the collapse came. She wanted to get the money from her mother to enable me to pay up, but I would not hear of it. I pretended that I could raise the wind some other way. The fact is I was wild with myself and with my luck generally. Then there was the disgrace of failing to settle on Monday, combined with the general excitement of that dream and a fearfully disturbed night. To make a long story short, I thought the best thing to do was to try a final plunge, and if it failed, to quit. I even took steps to make Phil believe I was a bad lot, so that she might not fret too much after me." Mensmore's voice was a little unsteady in this last sentence. The barrister tried to cheer him by a little bit of raillery: "I hope you have not succeeded too well?" he laughed. "Oh, it is all right now. I mean that I left her some papers which would bring things to her knowledge that, unexplained by me, would give any one a completely false impression." The subject was evidently a painful one, so Bruce did not pursue it. "About this speculation of yours," he said. "Are you sure it's all right, and that you will not lose your money?" "It is as certain as any business can be. It is a matter I thoroughly understand, but I will tell you all about it. If you will pardon me a moment I will bring you the papers, as I should like to have your advice, and it is early yet. You don't want to go to bed, I suppose?" "Not for hours." Mensmore rose, but before he reached the door a gentle tap heralded the appearance of the hall-porter. "There is a letter for the gentleman. Monsieur is not in his room. He is reported to be here, so I bring it." Mensmore took the note, read it with a smile and a growing flush, and handed it to the barrister, saying: "Under the circumstances I think you ought to see this. Isn't she a brick?" The tiny missive ran: "_Dearest One_,--You must forgive me, but we are both so miserable about that wretched money that I told mother everything. She likes you, and though she gave me a blowing up, she has promised to give me £500 to-morrow. We can never thank her sufficiently. Do come around and see me for a minute. I will be in the verandah until eleven. "Ever yours, "PHYLLIS." Claude returned the note. "Luck! you're the luckiest fellow in the South of France!" he said. "Why, here's the mother plotting with the daughter on your behalf. Sir William hasn't the ghost of a chance. Off you go to that blessed verandah."