"Winning way, with seven to one against him! Macassar sighed, and spilt some of his cherry-brandy over his shirt front. The kind-hearted girl came and wiped it for him. 'I think I'll have another glass,' said he, with a deep voice. He did take another glass—and also ate another tart.
"'He'll pop to-day as sure as eggs, now he's taken them two glasses of popping powder,' said the girl, as he went out of the shop. 'Well, it's astonishing to me what the men find to be afraid of.'
"And so Macassar hastened towards Tavistock Square, all too quickly; for, as he made his way across Great Russell Street, he found that he was very hot. He leant against the rail, and, taking off his hat and gloves, began to cool himself, and wipe away the dust with his pocket-handkerchief. 'I wouldn't have minded the expense of a cab,' said he to himself, 'only the chances are so much against me: seven to one!'
"But he had no time to lose. He had had but two precious hours at his disposal, and thirty minutes were already gone. He hurried on to Tavistock Square, and soon found that well-known door open before him.
"'The Lady Crinoline sits upstairs alone,' said the page, 'and is a-thinking of you.' Then he added in a whisper, 'Do you go at her straight, Mr. Macassar; slip-slap, and no mistake.'
"All honour to the true and brave!
"CHAPTER V. — "As Macassar walked across the drawing-room, Crinoline failed to perceive his presence, although his boots did creak rather loudly. Such at least must be presumed to have been the case, for she made no immediate sign of having noticed him. She was sitting at the open window, with her lute in hand, gazing into the vacancy of the square below; and as Macassar walked across the room, a deep sigh escaped from her bosom. The page closed the door, and at the same moment Crinoline touched her lute, or rather pulled it at the top and bottom, and threw one wild witch note to the wind. As she did so, a line of a song escaped from her lips with a low, melancholy, but still rapturous cadence—
'His heart is at his office, his heart is always there.'
"'Oh, Mr. Macassar, is that you?' she exclaimed. She struggled to rise, but, finding herself unequal to the effort, she sank back again on a chair, dropped her lute on a soft footstool, and then buried her face in her hands. It was dreadful for Macassar to witness such agony.
"'Is anything the matter?' said he.