and went up-stairs to his own quarters.     

       There was a telegram on the mantel.     

       “Some fellows,” he soliloquized happily, as he opened it, “wouldn't have been able to manage a little thing like that. They would have given themselves away. They would——”      

       The contents of the telegram demanded his attention.     

       For some time they conveyed nothing to him. The thing might have been written in Hindustani.     

       It would have been quite appropriate if it had been, for it was from the promoters of the Calcutta Sweep, and it informed him that, as the holder of ticket number 108,694, he had drawn Gelatine, and in recognition of this fact a check for five hundred pounds would be forwarded to him in due course.     

       Roland's first feeling was one of pure bewilderment. As far as he could recollect, he had never had any dealings whatsoever with these open-handed gentlemen. Then memory opened her flood-gates and swept him back to a morning ages ago, so it seemed to him, when Mr. Fineberg's eldest son       Ralph, passing through the office on his way to borrow money from his father, had offered him for ten shillings down a piece of cardboard, at the same time saying something about a sweep. Partly from a vague desire to keep in with the Fineberg clan, but principally because it struck him as rather a doggish thing to do, Roland had passed over the ten shillings; and there, as far as he had known, the matter had ended.     

       And now, after all this time, that simple action had borne fruit in the shape of Gelatine and a check for five hundred pounds.     

       Roland's next emotion was triumph. The sudden entry of checks for five hundred pounds into a man's life is apt to produce this result.     

       For the space of some minutes he gloated; and then reaction set in. Five hundred pounds meant marriage with Muriel.     

       His brain worked quickly. He must conceal this thing. With trembling fingers he felt for his match-box, struck a match, and burnt the telegram to ashes. Then, feeling a little better, he sat down to think the whole matter over. His meditations brought a certain amount of balm. After all,       

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