“Confound them,” he would say, “there are curs without fluff on their chins that know the odds at Newmarket as well as John Day! What chance has a man with youngsters that understand the 'call for trumps'?” It was thus moralizing over a world in decline that he strolled through the garden, his unlit cigar held firm between his teeth, and his hands deep sunk in his trousers' pockets. As he turned an angle of a walk, he was arrested by a very silky voice saying, “Your honor's welcome home. I hope your honor's well, and enjoyed yourself when you were away.” “Ah, O'Reardon, that you! pretty well, thank you; quite well, I believe; at least, as well as any man can be who is in want of money, and does not know where to find it.” Mr. O'Reardon grinned, as if _that_, at least, was one of the contingencies his affluent chief could never have had any experience of. “Moses is to run after all, sir,” said he, after a pause; “the bandages was all a sham,--he never broke down.” “So much the worse for me. I took the heavy odds against him on your fine information,” said Sewell, savagely. “You 'll not be hurt this time. He 'll have a tongue as big as three on the day of the race; and there will be no putting a bridle on him.” “I don't believe in that trick, O'Reardon.” “I do, sir; and I'm laying the only ten-pound note I have on it,” said the other, calmly. “What about Mary Draper? is she coughing still?” “She is, sir, and won't feed besides; but Mr. Harman is in such trouble about his wife going off with Captain Peters, that he never thinks of the mare. Any one goes into the stable that likes.” “Confounded fool he must be! He stood heavily on that mare. When did Lady Jane bolt?” “On Tuesday night, sir. She was here at the Priory at luncheon with Captain Peters that morning. She and Mrs. Sewell were walking more than an hour together in the back garden.” “Did you overhear anything they said?” “Only once, sir, for they spoke low; but one time your Lady said aloud, 'If any one blames you, dear, it won't be me.' I think the other was crying when she said it.” “Stuff and nonsense!” said Sewell, angrily. “She's gone away, at all events, sir; and Mr. Harman 's out of his mind about it. Cross told me this morning that he would n't be surprised if his master cut his throat or went to live on the Continent.” “Do you happen to know anybody would lend me a thousand pounds on no particular security, O'Reardon?” “Not just at the minute,--perhaps if I had a day or two to think of it.” “I could give you a week,--a fortnight if it was any use, but it is not; and you know it's not, Master O'Reardon, as well as any man breathing.” There was a silence of some minutes now between them; and while Sewell brooded over his hard fortune, O'Reardon seemed to be reviewing in his mind the state of the share market, and taking a sweeping view of the course of the exchanges.