Two or three gentlemen were at the cottage this evening whom he had not met before, but to whom he was now introduced. After a light and elegantly served supper came cards and champagne. To-night, however, Philip did not play. He read poetry to Mrs. Ducie in a little boudoir that opened out of the drawing-room. So were woven again the bonds which at one time he believed were broken for ever. There was a strange, subtle fascination about this woman which held him almost as it were against his will. She was gracious and frank towards him, but that was all. She was gracious and frank to every gentleman who visited at the cottage. There was nothing in her manner towards Philip which would allow of his flattering himself that he was a greater favourite than anyone else whom he met there: though at moments it did seem as if she had a special interest in him. He certainly did not love her--his heart was given to Maria--but Margaret Ducie held him by an invisible chain which he was too weak to break. That Friday evening was but the precursor of many other evenings at The Lilacs: for all the old glamour had come back over Philip. Maria was away, and the cottage was a very pleasant place. Sometimes he played cards, sometimes he did not; sometimes he won a little money, not unfrequently he lost what for him was a considerable sum. Now and then it almost seemed as if Mrs. Ducie, compassionating his youth and inexperience, drew him away of set purpose from the card-table. Be that as it may, when April came in, and Philip looked into the state of his banking account, he found to his dismay that in the course of the past few weeks he had lost upwards of a hundred pounds. How could he redeem it? "Now's your time if you want to make a cool hundred or two," said Lennox to him a day or two later. Philip pricked up his ears. "Who does not want to make a cool hundred or two? Only show me how." "The thing lies in a nutshell. Back Patchwork." "Eh?" queried Philip, who knew little more about racing and sporting matters than he did of the mysteries of Eleusis. "Back Patchwork," reiterated the Captain, with emphasis. "I am quite aware that he is not a general favourite: the odds were ten to one against him last night: there's Trumpeter and Clansman, and one or two other horses that stand before him in public estimation. But take no notice of that. Camberley and I have got the tip, no matter how, and you may rely upon it that we know pretty well what we are about. Both of us are going to lay heavily on the horse, and if you have a few spare sovereigns you can't do better than follow our example."