"Damn it, man," burst out Mackrell fiercely, "you make me out a scoundrel, who offers a farthing doll as a bribe to get possession of a great treasure, but you're wrong, utterly wrong. Unless Miss Gay sends for me, I shall not go near her—"
"And she will send," said Chris grimly. Too late he now remembered that Min Toplady was with Carlton's suit heart and soul, and much too clever not to make ample use to-night of the opportunity given her by the day's events.
Mackrell looked up, his face suddenly grown old and lined.
"I came to you for bread, and you've given me a stone," he said. "You make it impossible for me to ask Miss Gay to be my wife—and you know it."
"I think you did wrong to cheat, so that she might win what was practically valueless," said Chris quietly. "I repeat that you had no right to lay her under such an enormous obligation."
"I did not expect to be bowled out," said Mackrell sullenly. "Her dearest wish was to win the Vase—it was my earnest desire that she should do so—my thoughts went no further than that. If that infernal chap hadn't followed me, Miss Gay would have believed she had won on her horse's merits, for you may be sure I should never have undeceived her."
Chris silently held out his hand, and Mackrell, after a moment's hesitation, took it.
"Can nothing be done?" said Chris. "It's preposterous that you are to be made an example of like this! Have you seen Rensslaer?"
"No. I took Gay back to town—of course she did not know about me. Heavens! I expect they're tearing her to pieces at Connaught Square. It's on her account I'm here—I thought she might have 'phoned to you—told you how she was."
"No, but I expect to hear presently. I've sent Min Toplady to her."