"Bother the money!" said the young man shortly. "Look here, Doctor; as a mining engineer, I should advise every one but those who want to do a bit of gambling, and are ready to take losses philosophically, to have nothing to do with mines. If, however, I can help you with this, I will tell you all I know as fast as I learn it." "That'll do, boy. Now about the other matter. You know I make use of my eyes a good deal." "Yes," said the young man anxiously. "Then, to put it rather brutally and plainly, boy, I don't like the look of the old dad." "Doctor Praed!" cried the young man in a voice full of agony, as he turned and gazed anxiously into the drawing-room, where Grantham Reed, one of the best known floaters of mining projects in the City, sat back in his chair, holding Janet Praed's hand, and patting it gently, as he evidently listened to something his elder son was relating. "Why, what nonsense! I never saw him look better in my life." "Perhaps not--you didn't," said the Doctor drily. "I beg your pardon. But has he complained?" "No; he has nothing to complain of, poor fellow; but all the same, we doctors see things sometimes which tell us sad tales. Look here, Clive, my boy. I speak to you like a son, because you are going to be my son. I can't talk to your brother, though he is the elder, and ought to stand first. I don't like Jessop." "Jess is a very good fellow when you know him as I do," said Clive coldly. "I'm very glad to hear it, boy," said the Doctor. "But look here; your father's in a very bad way, and he ought to be told." "But are you sure, sir?" said Clive, in a hoarse whisper. "Yes, I am sure," said the Doctor. "I have been watching him for the past six months in doubt. Now I know. Will you tell him, or shall I?" "Tell him!" faltered Clive. "Yes; a man in his position must have so much to do about his money affairs--winding up matters, while his mind is still strong and clear." "But he is well and happy," said Clive. "How could I go to him and say--" "Here, where's that Doctor?" came from within, in a strong voice. "Oh, there you are! It's going on for ten, and I must have one rubber before you start." Five minutes later four people were seated at a card-table, one of whom was Clive Reed, whose hands were cold and damp, as he felt as if he were playing for his father's life in some great game of chance, while in the farther drawing-room Janet Praed was singing a ballad in a low, sweet voice, and Clive's sharp-looking, keen-eyed brother was turning over the music leaves and passing compliments, at which his sister-in-law elect uttered from time to time in the intervals of the song a half-pained, half-contemptuous laugh. CHAPTER TWO. ARCH-PLOTTERS. "Hullo, my noble! what brings you here?"