The Duke’s Children

General opinion declared that the nail had been driven in wilfully⁠—that it had been done by Tifto himself, and that Tifto had been instigated by Captain Green. Captain Green perhaps overacted his part a little. His intimacy with the Major was well known, and yet, in all this turmoil, he kept himself apart as though he had no interest in the matter. “I have got my little money on, and what little I have I lose,” he said in answer to inquiries. But everyone knew that he could not but have a great interest in a race, as to which the half owner of the favourite was a peculiarly intimate friend of his own. Had he come down to the stables and been seen about the place with Tifto it might have been better. As it was, though he was very quiet, his name was soon mixed up in the matter. There was one man who asserted it as a fact known to himself that Green and Villiers⁠—one Gilbert Villiers⁠—were in partnership together. It was very well known that Gilbert Villiers would win two thousand five hundred pounds from Lord Silverbridge.

Then minute investigation was made into the betting of certain individuals. Of course there would be great plunder, and where would the plunder go? Who would get the money which poor Silverbridge would lose? It was said that one at least of the large bets made on that Tuesday evening could be traced to the same Villiers though not actually made by him. More would be learned when the settling-day should come. But there was quite enough already to show that there were many men determined to get to the bottom of it all if possible.

There came upon Silverbridge in his trouble a keen sense of his position and a feeling of the dignity which he ought to support. He clung during great part of the morning to Mr. Lupton. Mr. Lupton was much his senior and they had never been intimate; but now there was comfort in his society. “I am afraid you are hit heavily,” said Mr. Lupton.

“Something over seventy thousand pounds!”

“Looking at what will be your property it is of course nothing. But if⁠—”

“If what?”

“If you go to the Jews for it then it will become a great deal.”

“I shall certainly not do that.”

“Then you may regard it as a trifle,” said Lupton.

“No, I can’t. It is not a trifle. I must tell my father. He’ll find the money.”

“There is no doubt about that.”

“He will. But I feel at present that I would rather change places with the poorest gentleman I know than have to tell him. I have done with races, Lupton.”

“If so, this will have been a happy day for you. A man in your position can hardly make money by it, but he may lose so much! If a man really likes the amusement⁠—as I do⁠—and risks no more than what he has in his pocket, that may be very well.”

“At any rate I have done with it.”

Nevertheless he went to see the race run, and everybody seemed to be touched with pity for him. He carried himself well, saying as little as he could of his own horse, and taking, or affecting to take, great interest in the race. After the race he managed to see all those to whom he had lost heavy stakes⁠—having to own to himself, as he did so, that not one of them was a gentleman to whom he should like to give his hand. To them he explained that his father was abroad⁠—that probably his liabilities could not be settled till after his father’s return. He however would consult his father’s agent and would then appear on settling-day. They were all full of the blandest courtesies. There was not one of them who had any doubt as to getting his money⁠—unless the whole thing might be disputed on the score of Tifto’s villany. Even then payment could not be disputed, unless it was proved that he who demanded the money had been one of the actual conspirators. After having seen his creditors he went away up alone to London.

When in London he went to Carlton Terrace and spent the night in absolute solitude. It had been his plan to join Gerald for some partridge-shooting at Matching, and then to go yachting till such time as he should be enabled to renew his suit to Miss Boncassen. Early in November he would again ask her to be his wife. These had been his plans. But now it seemed that everything was changed. Partridge-shooting and yachting must be out of the question till this terrible load was taken off his shoulders. Soon after his arrival at the house two telegrams followed him from Doncaster. One was from Gerald. “What is all this about Prime Minister? Is it a sell? I am so unhappy.” The other was from Lady Mabel⁠—for among other luxuries Mrs. Montacute Jones had her own telegraph-wire at Killancodlem. “Can this be true? We are all so miserable. I do hope it is not much.” From which he learned that his misfortune was already known to all his friends.

And now what was he to do? He ate his supper, and then without hesitating for a moment⁠—feeling that if he did hesitate the task would not be done on that night⁠—he sat down and wrote the following letter:

Carlton Terrace, Sept. 14, 18⁠—.

My dear Mr. Moreton,

I have just come up from Doncaster. You have probably heard what has been Prime Minister’s fate. I don’t know whether any horse has ever been such a favourite for the Leger. Early in the morning he was taken out and picked up a nail. The consequence was he could not run.

Now I must come to the bad part of my story. I have lost seventy thousand pounds! It is no use beating about the bush. The sum is something over that. What am I to do? If I tell you