"There, there's enough of this!" cried Lloyd, interrupting him; "my time's too valuable to waste over such trash. It's the old game of hush-money for a secret, after all. I should have thought you would have known some better dodge than that, Master Foxey, after all the life you've seen. If you were going in for the extortion-of-money business in your old age, you might have learned something fresher than that very stale device. Now, be off, and give me a wider berth for the future, if you're wise. Your drunken stupidity--for I suppose you would not have acted thus if you had not taken to drink--has lost you ten pounds. Take care it does not get you a horsewhipping." As he said these words he turned shortly on his heel and strode away. Foxey looked after him, his face lit up with rage and disappointment. "All right, my fine-fellow," he muttered, shaking his fist at the fast-receding figure; "all right; you will have it, and you shall. It will be quite enough to cook your goose as it is; but if I'd only had time to learn a little more, I think I could have hanged you." There was a little extra excitement in the rooms that night. Count Nicolaeff, a Russian nobleman who had on two previous occasions broken the bank, had returned to Baden, and was playing with a boldness and success which augured the repetition of the feat. A crowd was gathered round him as he sat, calm and composed, quietly gathering the _rouleaux_ which the croupiers pushed across to him. In this crowd was Lloyd; the qualities which the Russian was displaying were just those to excite his admiration, and he was watching every movement and trying to account for each calculation of the gambler, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked round and saw Dolly Clarke, the sporting-lawyer, who beckoned him away. Gilbert was annoyed at the interruption. "Not just now," he said impatiently; "I'll come to you later." "Come this instant," said Dolly Clarke; and there was something in his tone that made Gilbert Lloyd leave the table and follow him into the open space outside. By the lamp-light Lloyd saw that Clarke was very pale; noticed also that he stood back as if avoiding contact with him. "What is it?" asked Lloyd. "It should be something special by your tone and manner, Clarke?" "It is something special," replied Clarke; "it is a matter of life or death for you. Do you know a man called Foxey Walker?" "Pshaw! is that all?" said Lloyd, whose heart had failed him at the solemnity of his companion's manner, and whose courage now as suddenly revived. "Is that all? Yes, I know him; a defaulting ring-man, a mere common 'welsher.' I saw him on the course to-day, and he threatened me that if I did not give him money he would expose something in my past life--some trick or dodge I practised, I suppose, when I was in the ring, and had to be a sharp practitioner to hold my own with my fellows. That's all, eh?"