They had become extremely friendly since their first meeting at the ball at the Albert Hall, owing partly to the fact of their having interests in common, and it was but natural that during dinner mention should be made of their common friend, Preston.
“I still feel anxious about Charlie Preston,” Blenkiron happened to remark. “He has changed greatly of late, yet won’t say what is the matter. To-day I heard an odd story to the effect that he has got himself into some sort of trouble. And yet I can’t think what. He is not a man who runs after women; rather, he is inclined to shun them. On the other hand he is not in monetary difficulties, that I know for a fact.”
“Where did you hear the story?” Johnson asked.
“At the club. Several men seemed to have heard it, yet all were vague as to the nature of the alleged trouble. I do hope, Johnson, he has not done anything foolish. He is such a good fellow.”
“The last man to do anything foolish, I should say,” the doctor replied. “I like to trace to their source the origin of vague stories, because often they do much mischief though quite devoid of foundation. Couldn’t we, between us, find whence this rumor emanates?”
“I think it should be possible. I will see what can be done to-morrow.”
Blenkiron was fortunate next morning in coming face to face with the member of the club who had first told him the story, or the story so far as it went.
Briefly, the rumor was that Captain Preston had been talking too freely about a certain lady—this was the new version—that he had been taken to task by an intimate friend of hers, also a member of the club, and that an action threatened unless Preston agreed to apologize in writing for what he had stated, and, in addition, agreed to pay a considerable sum to the man who brought the charge.
“Who told you all that?” Blenkiron inquired carelessly.
“Told me? I’m sure I don’t remember,” his informant replied quickly. “It is common talk. You will hear about it everywhere.”