He felt strange upon reaching the hotel and engaging his room. He had very little acquaintance with hotels of any kind, save, perhaps, when he had stayed at the seaside in the company of his relations. John Clithero was quite suburban in his ideas of the annual holiday. It was a new experience, then, for Mostyn to find himself alone and independent in one of London's huge caravansaries, and it was not altogether without its element of charm. He felt himself that evening more the man than he had ever done in his life before; the whole world was before him, and he had to carve out his own path through it. He dined alone, in the great restaurant, but he was too excited to take any particular notice either of the food that was put before him or of the smart crowd by which he was surrounded. He was anxious for the time to pass so that he might wend his way to the Imperial Club, which was in Pall Mall, and so not very far away, and there talk over the whole matter with Pierce Trelawny. He fancied that Pierce might have friends dining with him, and so he did not like to intrude himself too early at the club. It was ten o'clock when he gave his name to the hall porter and asked to see Mr. Trelawny. Pierce came to him immediately. His friends had just taken their departure, for they were due at the Empire, where the Derby crowd was sure to collect in force. All of which Pierce explained before he had time to notice how pale and distressed Mostyn appeared. "It's jolly lucky you found me, Mostyn," he said heartily, "for I might have gone out in another ten minutes. But what on earth has brought you round to the club at this time of the night? I never thought you would have been allowed such a dissipation." "Take me somewhere where we can have a quiet talk," Mostyn said huskily. "There has been trouble, Pierce, and I want to tell you all about it." Pierce glanced quickly into his friend's face and realised that there must indeed have been trouble. "Poor old chap!" he exclaimed. "I was blind not to see that there was something wrong. Come along up to the smoking-room; we can find a corner, and you shall tell me all about it." As they were about to set their feet on the broad staircase they were buttonholed by Captain Armitage, who was coming downstairs to the hall. He laid a hand upon an arm of each of the young men--almost as if to support himself--and began to talk hoarsely of the day's racing. "I dropped a pot," he muttered. "Infernal bad luck! Didn't even back Hipponous. Lost my money in backing old Rory's horses so often that I couldn't think his luck was going to turn. Damnable--what?" It was some moments before Pierce could shake him off; then, as the two young men continued their way up the stairs, Pierce commented in no unmeasured terms upon Captain Armitage as a member of the club.