"Her brother—?"
"Half-brother!"
"A cheat! Are you sure?"
"Certain! I had the misfortune to make the discovery. And it killed him in London, all the clubs shut their doors upon him of course, he was cut in the streets,—it is damning to be seen in his company or even to mention his name—now."
"And you—you exposed him?"
"I said I made the discovery; but I kept it to myself. The stakes were unusually high that night, and we played late. I went home with him, but Chichester was there, waiting for him. So I took him aside, and, in as friendly a spirit as I could, told him of my discovery. He broke down, and, never attempting a denial, offered restitution and promised amendment. I gave my word to keep silent and, on one pretext or another, the loser's money was returned. But next week, the whole town hummed with the news. One night—it was at White's—he confronted me, and—he gave me—the lie!" The Viscount's fists were tight clenched, and he stared down blindly at the floor. "And, sir, though you'll scarcely credit it of course, I—there, before them all—I took it."
"Of course," said Barnabas, "for Her sake."
"Beverley!" exclaimed the Viscount, looking up with a sudden light in his eyes. "Oh, Bev!" and their hands met and gripped.
"You couldn't do anything else, Dick."
"No, Bev, no, but I'm glad you understand. Later it got about that I—that I was—afraid of the fellow—he's a dead shot, they say, young as he is—and—well, it—it wasn't pleasant, Bev. Indeed it got worse until I called out one of Chichester's friends, and winged him—a fellow named Dalton."