“To lose, you mean,” said the solicitor. “You 're sold!” The words were whispered so low as to be almost inaudible; but Broughton actually staggered as he heard them.
“Sold! how? what? Impossible, man! Who could sell me?”
“Only one man, perhaps, but he has done it! Is it true you have backed Calliope?”
“Yes!” said he, staring wildly.
“She was found hamstrung this morning in the stable, then,” said Taperton; “if you want to hear further particulars, you must ask your friend the Count Radchoffsky!”
“The scoundrel! the black-hearted villain! I see it all!” cried Broughton. “Come, Taperton, let us start! I'll go with you; by Jove, you have found a way to make me eager for the road!”
The lawyer read in the bloodshot eye and flushed face the passion for vengeance that was boiling within him, but he never spoke as they moved on and entered the carriage.
It was full three hours before the expected time of his return, when the chaise in which they travelled drew up at the Clarendon, and Broughton, half wild with rage, dashed upstairs to the suite of splendid rooms he occupied.
“Oh, dear, Sir Dudley,” cried the maid, as she saw him hastening along the corridor, “oh, I 'm sure, sir, how you 'll alarm my lady if she sees you so flurried!”
“Stand out of the way, woman!” said he, roughly, endeavoring to push her to one side, for she had actually placed herself between him and the door of the drawing-room.