“I have but a garbled version of the story, for from Trafford himself I have heard nothing; but I know, for I have seen the bills, he has lost largely at play to a very dangerous creditor, who also accuses him of designs on his wife; and the worst of this is that the latter suspicion originated with Lady Trafford.” “I could have sworn it. It was a woman's quarrel, and she would sacrifice her own son for vengeance. I 'll be able to pay her a very refined compliment when I next see her, Cave, and tell her that she is not in the least altered from the day I first met her. And has Lionel been passed over in the entail?” “So he believes, and I think with too good reason.” “And all because he loved a girl whose alliance would confer honor on the proudest house in the land. I think I 'll go over and pay Holt a visit. It is upwards of forty years since I saw Sir Hugh, and I have a notion I could bring him to reason.” Cave shook his head doubtingly. “Ay, to be sure,” sighed Fossbrooke, “it does make a precious difference whether one remonstrates at the head of a fine fortune or pleads for justice in a miner's jacket. I was forgetting that, Cave. Indeed, I am always forgetting it. And have they made no sort of settlement on Lionel,--nothing to compensate him for the loss of his just expectations?” “I suspect not. He has told me nothing beyond the fact that he is to have the purchase-money for the lieutenant-colonelcy, which I was ready and willing to vacate in his favor, but which we are unable to negotiate, because he owes a heavy sum, to the payment of which this must go.” “Can nothing be done with his creditor?--can we not manage to secure the debt and pay the interest?” “This same creditor is one not easily dealt with,” said Cave, slowly. “A money-lender?” “No. He 's the man I just told you wanted to involve Trafford with his own wife. As dangerous a fellow as ever lived. I take shame to myself to own that, though acquainted with him for years, I never really knew his character till lately.” “Don't think the worse of yourself for that, Cave. The faculty to read bad men at sight argues too much familiarity with badness. I like to hear a fellow say, 'I never so much as suspected it.' Is this, man's name a secret?” “No. Nothing of the kind. I don't suppose you ever met him, but he is well known in the service,--better perhaps in India than at home,--he served on Rolffe's staff in Bengal. His name is Sewell.” “What! Dudley Sewell?” “Yes; that's his name. Do you know him?” “Do I know him!” muttered the old man, as he bent down and supported his head upon his hand. “And do I wrong him in thinking him a dangerous fellow?” asked Cave. But Fossbrooke made no answer; indeed, he never heard the question, so absorbed was he in his own thoughts. “What do you know of him?” asked Cave, in a louder voice.