There were not many people who liked Mr. Aldermaston, though there were a great many who feared him; but Lord Dollamore was among the former class. "He is a _blagueur_," Dollamore used to say; "and a _blagueur_ is a detestable beast; but necessary to society; and Aldermaston is certainly clean. He knows how to behave himself, and is in fact an Ananias of polite society. Besides, he amuses me, and there are very few people in the world who amuse me." So Lord Dollamore always spoke to Mr. Aldermaston at the club, and encouraged him to tell his anecdotes; and when he found him at Baden, he looked upon him as one of the resources of the place,-a purveyor of news infinitely fresher, more piquant, and more amusing than was to be found in the week-old _Times_ or three-days-old _Galignani_, which he found at Misses Marx's library. So he again repeated, "And what's the latest news in this Inferno, Mr. Aldermaston?" "Well, there's very little news here, my lord, very little indeed; except that young Lord Plaidington is gone--sent away this morning." "Sent away?" "Yes; his mother, Lady Macabaw, wouldn't stand it any longer. Last night Lord Plaidington took too much again, and began throwing the empty champagne-bottles out of the window of the Angleterre; so Lady Macabaw sent him off this morning with his tutor, the Rev. Sandford Merton, and they've gone to Strasburg, on the way to Italy." "Serve him right, the young cub. I went away early last night--any heavy play late?" "Yes; a Frenchman whom no one had ever seen before won a hatful at roulette, and some Englishman whom no one seemed to know backed him and stood in. They looked like breaking the bank at one time, but they didn't." "Was Tchernigow at the tables?" "No; the Prince did not show up at all,--has not been there for the last three nights." "So much the worse for Benazet; but what does it mean?" "Well, I've a notion about that that I won't broach to any one but your Lordship. I think I've found the clue to that story." "What story? what clue?" "Prince Tchernigow's sudden cessation from play. You know what a mania it was with him. It must have been something special to make him give it up." "And what is the something special?" "A woman." "Ah!" said Lord Dollamore, warming a once into interest; "_malheureux en jeu, heureux en amour_,--the converse of the ordinarily-received motto. Has Mademoiselle Féodor arrived from the Gaieté? or who is the siren that charms our Prince from the tables?" "Mademoiselle Féodor has not arrived, but some one else has. A much more dangerous person than Mademoiselle Féodor, and with much more lasting hopes in view." Lord Dollamore looked keenly at his companion, and said, "I begin to find the scent warming; but I make it a rule never to guess. Tell your story, Mr. Aldermaston, please."