"Fill your glass, Gerard. How much do you owe?"
"Well, it must be as much, I'm afraid, as five hundred pounds."
"Is that all?" spoke Sir Francis, rather slightingly.
Gerard laughed. "Not much to many a man; but a very great deal to a poor one. I don't know that I should be much better off at home than here," he added in a thoughtful tone. "So long as that bracelet affair lies in doubt, the world will look askance at me: and I expect it will never be cleared up."
"It was a most singular thing, quite a mystery, as Lady Sarah always calls it. I suppose you have no suspicion yourself, Gerard, as to the culprit."
"Why, yes, I have, unfortunately."
Sir Francis caught at the words. "Who was it?"
Gerard Hope's pale face, so much paler than of yore, turned red. But that he had been in a reverie he would not have made the unguarded admission.
"I am sorry to have said so much, Sir Francis," he avowed hastily. "It is true that a doubt lies on my mind; but I ought not to have spoken of it."
"Nay, but you may trust me, Gerard."