The Hon. John Hazel had been a member of some of the most exclusive clubs in London; but whether or not Nature had endowed him with a useful talent, he had become notorious as a reckless cardsharper, quite unscrupulous when it came to obtaining money. No one knew this better than Lord Stranleigh, who had been so often his victim, yet had regarded his losses lightly, and forgiven the Hon. John time and again. But recently this younger son of an ancient and honourable house had committed the unpardonable sin--he had been found out, and had been permitted to resign from all his clubs but one, and from which he was expelled by a committee not so lenient. After that he disappeared. He was done for, so far as England was concerned, and he knew it. "John, is this possible?" cried Lord Stranleigh, as the other approached. Hazel stopped, his eyes veiling over, as though he held a hand at poker that was unbeatable. "I haven't the pleasure of knowing you, sir," he said haughtily. "I'm glad of that, because I'm Edmund Trevelyan at the moment, and was just hoping I should meet no one on board who would recognise me." "I don't know Edmund Trevelyan, and have no wish to make his acquaintance," returned the other coldly. "That's quite all right, and your wish does you credit. Trevelyan has no desire to force his friendship on any man. Nevertheless, Jack, time was when I helped you out of a hole, and, if occasion arose, I should be glad to do it again." "You could have prevented my expulsion from the Camperdown Club, had you but cared to raise a finger," said the other hotly. "Hazel, you are mistaken. I did all I could for you, as in other crises of the same nature. The committee proved to be adamant, and rather prided themselves on their independence, as if they were a group of blooming Radicals. The House of Lords isn't what it was, Jack, as, alas, you may learn, should you ever come into the title of your family, although many people stand between you and it at the present moment. Indeed, Jack, it has been on my conscience that my urgent advocacy prejudiced your case instead of helping it." "Ah, well, that's all past; it doesn't matter now," said the other, with a sigh. "I have shaken the dust of England for ever from my feet." "The mud, you mean." "Oh, I admit I wallowed in the mud, but it was dust when I left London this morning. Ah, we're off! I must be going." And he moved away from the rail of the ship, where he had been gazing over the side. "Going? Where?" "Where I belong. I'm travelling third-class. The moment the steamer gets under way, I have no right on the cabin deck. Before she left, I took the liberty of a sightseer to wander over the steamship." "My dear Jack," said his former friend, in a grave voice, "this will never do; you cannot cross the Atlantic in the steerage."