"It may be only to inquire about the Artificial Rain Company"--said Gammon to himself, as, having procured a light, he poured himself out a large glassful of brandy, and drank it off, to overcome a little sense of faintness which he felt coming rapidly over him. "The duke is a shareholder, I think. Not at all unlikely!--And as for Lady Cecilia's illness--nothing so extraordinary about it--when one considers her situation--and the shock occasioned by the earl's sudden and alarming illness. But I must take a decided course, one way or another, with the duke!--Suppose the earl has disclosed the affair to Lady Cecilia--and it has got to the duke's ears?--Good heavens! how is one to deal with it? Suppose I were to affect total ignorance about the matter--and swear that it is altogether a delusion on the part of the earl?--That would be rather a bold stroke, too!--Suppose the earl to _die_ of this bout--ah! then there 's an end of the thing, and all's well, provided I can manage Titmouse!--A second fit of apoplexy within twelve hours--that looks well--humph!--If the earl _have_ mentioned the affair--and distinctly and intelligibly--how far has he gone?--Did he name the rent-charge?--Ah!--well, and suppose he did? What's easier than also to deny _that_ altogether? But suppose Titmouse should be tampered with, and pressed about the business? Perdition!--all is lost!--Yet they would hardly like to defy me, and trumpet the thing abroad!--Then there's the other course--to own that I am in possession of the fatal secret--that I became so only recently; avow the reason of my taking the rent-charge; and insist upon retaining it, as the condition of my secrecy? That also is a bold stroke: both are bold!--Yet one of them I must choose!--Then, suppose the earl to recover: he will never be the same man he was--that I find is always the case--his mind, such as it is, will go nearly altogether!--But if he recover only a glimmering even of sense--egad! 't will require a little nerve, too, to deny the thing to his face, and swear that the whole thing is the delusion of a brain disordered by previous fright!--And suppose Lady Cecilia dies?--and leaves no issue?--and then Lord Dreddlington follows her--by Heaven, this hideous little devil _becomes Lord Drelincourt at once_!!" This was the way in which Mr. Gammon turned the thing over in his disturbed mind, as he walked rapidly towards Portman Square; and by the time that he had reached the duke's house, he had finally determined on the course he should pursue. Though his face was rather pale, he was perfectly self-possessed and firm, at the moment of his being shown into the library, where the duke was walking about, impatient for his arrival. "Gracious God, sir!"--commenced the duke, in a low tone, with much agitation of manner, the moment that the servant had closed the door behind him--"what is all this horrible news we hear about Mr. Titmouse?"