When with her and the child Silwood was another man; he seemed to have shed like a skin the cold formality which characterized him in Lincoln's Inn; his very nature appeared changed. "Is anything the matter?" she asked. "No, Meg, though there's news. But how is Davy?" "Poor lamb! He's as usual. He's asleep just now." "Let me see him," said Silwood. They went into a bedroom, and in a cot was their child. The boy was a cripple--he had been born a cripple, and the parents were all the more attached to him on that account. There is no explaining the workings of human nature; Silwood, who had confessed himself a criminal to his partner, Eversleigh, was deeply attached to the boy. He now gazed at the sleeping child, and the love that shone in his eyes was as pure as an angel's. "Poor lad! dear lad!" he said, and there were tears in his voice. Then the father and mother tip-toed out of the room. "You said there was news, James," suggested the wife. "Yes, I think you won't live here much longer. My business will take me abroad, and I dare say I will by-and-by--it may be very soon--send for you. I may be away from England for a long time." "Away from England!" she murmured. "Oh, James! Where is it you are going?" "I don't know," he answered; "I am not quite sure yet. I'll let you know in a few days, and meanwhile I want you to get ready, so that you can travel at a minute's notice." "Yes, James; it's rather sudden, but I'll do what you tell me." "Now I must leave you," he said. She was accustomed to these abrupt partings, but as he was going she hung upon his neck while he kissed her repeatedly. The following day he was at his office at half-past ten, looking as if it were impossible for such a man as he to lead a double life. CHAPTER VII The day on which Harry Bennet wired that he had drawn on Eversleigh, Silwood and Eversleigh, for two thousand pounds, was the first day of the Goodwood meeting. Bennet was a man who lost and won large sums on the turf, and it was not in the least unusual for him to wager several thousands on a single event, especially if it were one of the greater races. With him betting was a disease, a mania, so strong and uncontrolled ran the gambling fever in his blood. His love for Kitty Thornton was genuine, but it had to take a second place to this appalling madness. When he saw her and Helen and Gilbert Eversleigh in the punt on the river, he told himself as he rowed up-stream that he must lose no time in declaring himself to the girl. He cursed Gilbert in his thoughts, but believed his chance was at least as good as his rival's. And if it had not been for some racing business he was compelled to attend to that evening, he would have gone to Ivydene. If he had, the probability is that Kitty and Gilbert would not have been left alone that night under the white magic of the moon, and their engagement would not have taken place--at least, not at that particular time.