“Well,” said Tony, “I never went near his place since then, and the girl went away, but soon after I was engaged to Violet, Davidson turned up again. This time it was a more serious tale—the usual one—but you have got to believe what I told you.” “Yes,” said Appleby, “I think I can. You were often a fool, Tony, but that contented you.” “I gave him twenty pounds. If I’d had any sense I would have knocked him down instead; but it was an unpleasant story, and I was engaged to Violet. Godfrey Palliser was bent on the match too, though it wasn’t that which influenced me. Then Davidson commenced to come for money regularly, and I can’t get out of the fact that I’ve been subsidizing him without perjury; while it’s evident that if I told the truth now nobody would believe me. I tell you, Bernard, the thing has been worrying the life out of me.” This was apparent from his strained voice and the dejection in his face, but Appleby smiled reassuringly. “You should have gone to a lawyer long ago, Tony; but you can leave it to me,” he said. “Davidson expects you to give him money to‐night?” “Yes. He makes me come out at midnight and meet him to show he holds the whip over me. Thirty pounds—and I can only raise twenty—at half‐past eleven by the fir spinny! Have you the slightest hope of doing anything with him?” Appleby nodded as he took out his watch. “I shouldn’t wonder if I bring you good news to‐morrow. Remember, you are to say nothing to anybody. Give me what money you have and then go to sleep. You look as if you needed it.” He took the notes Palliser handed him, and when he went away hung about the head of the stairway until Violet Wayne came up with a white‐haired lady. He contrived to catch her eye, and though she passed on with her companion within five minutes she came back again. “Well?” she said expectantly. Appleby smiled. “If you can let me have ten pounds and ask no questions I think it will be an excellent investment, though it is quite possible that I shall be able to hand you them back to‐morrow,” he said. “If I were a richer man I would not ask you.” The girl made a little gesture of impatience and flitted away, but in a few minutes she once more stood beside him, a trifle breathless, and there was a crisp rustle, as she slipped something into his hand. “Thank you ever so much! When you can you will tell me,” she said. Appleby only nodded, and went down the stairway. He took a riding crop from the rack in the hall, and then passed through the drawing‐room into the conservatory, the outer door of which was not fastened yet. He opened it noiselessly and slipped out into the night, taking the key with him; but, though he did not know this, a man who afterwards remembered it saw him and noticed that he carried the riding crop. II — DAVIDSON MEETS HIS MATCH