"A dreadful set had got hold of him, poor young man," sobbed Reuben. "The same gamblers--one of them's the same, at any rate--that got hold of and ruined his uncle. Doubtless you know that story, sir. On this last Friday evening that ever was, I told it to Mr. Robert, hoping it would turn him back. But those wretched men had laid too fast a hold upon him. One was waiting for him outside in the street then. My belief is, sir, he _couldn't_ break with them." "Had the tale no effect upon him?" "Some little it had; not enough. He must go forth to play that night, he said to me; he had given his word to Piggott to go, and, besides, he thought the luck would turn and favour him; but once the night was over, he would know that Haughton and the rest of the set no more. And I think he would have kept his word, sir." "I suppose luck did not favour him? That shall, if possible, be ascertained." Reuben shook his head. "No need to doubt, sir. The worst is--the worst is--I hardly like to say it." "Can anything be worse, Reuben, than what you have told me?" was Mr. Grubb's sad rejoinder, as he took his seat again. "Ay, but I meant as to his means, sir; his losses. He was quite cleared out; he told me that; everything, including Moat Grange, so far as his life interest in it went, was staked and gone. But that last night"--Reuben's voice dropped to a dread whisper--"he took out with him what was not his to stake. And, no doubt, lost it." "What was it?" questioned Mr. Grubb, in the same hushed tone, feeling rather at sea, yet afraid of he knew not what. "It was a cheque that had come up that morning from Netherleigh. Farmer Lee wanted some money invested in some particular security, and he got my master to undertake to do it for him, to save himself the journey up. Mr. Robert had told me all about it--he mostly did tell me things. Ah, sir, his disposition was open and generous as the day." "And the money came?" "The cheque came, sir. It was for five hundred pounds. Piggott called that Friday afternoon and scented the cheque; saw it, most likely. He took Mr. Robert out to dinner, and plied him with wine, and between ten and eleven he brought him back again, staying outside while my master came in--come in for the cheque. It was then I tried to pull him up by telling him about his uncle Claude--how the man Haughton had lured Mr. Claude to his destruction, just as he was now luring Mr. Robert. He said he would have no more to do with Haughton after that night; but he went out to Piggott with the cheque in his pocket, and they walked away together arm-in-arm." Mr. Grubb took out his pocketbook, and made a note in pencil. He would get that cheque back from the gamblers, if possible. At any rate, he would have a good try for it.