As Rupert spoke he caught sight of the letter to his father lying on the writing-table. Picking it up quickly he tore it into a dozen fragments and threw them into the waste-paper basket.
Despard watched him, and his frown deepened. "You mean to say you backed Ambuscade at a hundred to one and got paid!"
"We didn't know the result until we left the course," Rupert replied lightly. "Luckily, Ruby kept the ticket. We're going to draw the money to-morrow. By gad, she's saved my life! I've had a narrow squeak."
"Who did you do the bet with?" Despard asked.
"I forgot the man's name. I've got the ticket safely in my pocket. We shall get the money all right to-morrow."
Ruby spoke quickly. She could not conceal her nervousness and anxiety. She, who had been so calm a little while ago when Rupert, believing that ruin had overtaken him, had been on the point of committing suicide.
He noticed that she seemed flustered and ill at ease, but he put it down to the sudden reaction. For himself he had forgotten all his troubles. They no longer existed. Death had stood at his elbow less than an hour ago. Now life was beckoning him to join in her revels. Curiously enough, he did not seem to realise the debt he owed to Ruby Strode: yet he would never have thought of backing Ambuscade himself.
As a matter of fact, he was too excited to think of anything. He only knew that he could pay his debts, go down to Devonshire for his holidays and face his father with a light heart. In due time he would have another fling at the examination, pass it, obtain an appointment somewhere, and then he would be able to marry Ruby and they would live happily ever after.
But for the moment he just wanted to enjoy his good fortune; to dance, to sing, to feast, to love.
"Come on, if you're both ready to start!" he cried excitedly. "Where shall we dine? Trocadero, Café Royal, Savoy? We'll make a night of it."