“If I could believe that you had one thought or feeling of a gentleman in your composition which my conduct could wound, I would accept one of the alternatives you propose; but to a man who can abuse the confidence of friendship by availing himself of it to swindle and betray the friend who trusted him,—to such a low, sordid black-leg, I will neither apologize, nor will I afford, him the satisfaction due to wounded honour.”
For a moment, as D’Almayne’s glance met that of the man he had wronged, his self-possession failed him; and, ignorant to what extent Lord Alfred might have become cognizant of his nefarious practices, he hesitated how far he dared provoke any disclosure. But it was too late to retract: his social position, on which depended his very means of existence, was at stake; and as the thought crossed his mind, the gambler spirit awoke within him. He would carry the matter with a high hand; a bold course was always the wisest; Fortune would favour those who trusted her. It was his only article of faith, and he clung to it with the pertinacity of a zealot.
“Highly melodramatic!” he said, with a sarcastic sneer. “Your Lordship has a real spécialité for juvenile tragedy. But may I be allowed to inquire what particular perfidy of mine has elicited the burst of virtuous indignation which you have selected for your histrionic début?”
“I was willing to have spared you the disgrace of a public exposure,” was Lord Alfred’s reply; “but since you choose thus to provoke your fate, I can have no reason for longer concealing the cause which has led me to consider you unfit for the society of honourable men.” Turning to Barrington, who happened to be standing next him, he continued, “You, sir, and other gentlemen present, may remember how, not many weeks since, a certain steeple-chase rider, named Tirrett, suddenly left me in the lurch, by refusing at the last minute to ride for me, by which rascality I was on the point of losing the race, upon which I had made an imprudently heavy book. Mr. D’Almayne was at that time abroad, and, I presume, imagined, owing to that circumstance, he might transact a little profitable black-leg business with impunity. He accordingly wrote a note to Tirrett, suggesting to him the scheme which he afterwards attempted to carry out; stipulating, in case of its success, to be paid fifty pounds and a percentage on Tirrett’s winnings.”
As Lord Alfred concluded, a murmur of disapprobation ran round the room, and all eyes were turned upon Horace D’Almayne.
“A cleverly devised tale!” he said, scornfully; “a mole-hill ingeniously inflated until it appears a mountain. I certainly betted on the race; I may have given the jockey Tirrett the benefit of my suggestions on the subject, as any other man who has ever been on the turf would have done; but that all this demonstrates anything, except Lord Alfred Courtland’s deplorable ignorance of that said art ‘of life about town,’ in which he appears to have striven in vain to become a proficient, I am at a loss to conceive.”
“Perhaps the simplest answer to Mr. D’Almayne’s statement will be to place the note, on which the foundations of my ‘molehill inflated into a mountain’ rest, in Mr. Barrington’s hands, asking him, for his own satisfaction, and for that of the other gentlemen present, to read it aloud.”
As he spoke, Lord Alfred drew from his pocket the note given him by Tirrett, and handed it to Barrington, who, after a moment’s hesitation, read aloud the following notable epistle, which the reader may remember was written by D’Almayne, with his usual cool audacity, in Lord Alfred Courtland’s lodgings:—
“Dear Tirrett,—Your game is clear: let A. C———— and O’B———n each believe that you will ride for him, and at the last minute throw both over. In this case, Captain Annesley’s Black Eagle is safe to win, as I daresay you know better than I do; thus you will perceive how to make a paying book. If I prove a true prophet, I shall expect a fifty pound note from you, as O’B———n will (before you quarrel with him) tell you I got up the whole affair myself, introducing him to A. C———, &c.
“I remain, yours faithfully,