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“Yet 'tis true, Warburton. I would give all in my power to undo that night's work.”

“You cannot expect me to believe that, sir. It rests with you alone whether his name be cleared or not. And you remain silent.”

“Warburton, I——— Oh, do you think it means nothing to me that John is outcast?”

Before the misery in those grey eyes some of Warburton's severity fell away from him.

“Master Richard, I want to think the best I can of you. Master Jack would tell me nothing. Will you not—can you not explain how it came that you allowed him to bear the blame of your cheat?”

Richard shuddered.

“There's no explanation—no excuse. I forced it on him! On Jack, my brother! Because I was mad for love of Lavinia——— Oh, my God, the thought of it is driving me crazed! I thought I could forget; and then—and then—I met him! The sight of him brought it all back to me. Ever since that day I have not known how to live and not shriek the truth to everyone! And I never shall! I never shall!”

“Tell me, sir,” pleaded Warburton, touched in spite of himself.

Richard's head sunk into his hands.

“The whole scene is a nightmare. … I think I must have been mad. I scarce knew what I was about. I———”

“Gently, sir. Remember I know hardly anything. What induced you to mark the cards?”

“That debt to Gundry. My father would not meet it; I had to find the money. I could not face the scandal—I tell you I was mad for Lavinia! I could think of nought else. I ceased to care for John because I thought him in love with her. I could not bear to think of the disgrace which would take her from me. … Then that night at Dare's. I was losing; I knew I could not pay. Gad! but I can see