“Chilson went away suddenly,” he said.  “As to Delamore, of course as he is a Member he had to stop through the Session, but from what I hear, and as you know I have some good sources of information, I am pretty sure that he has got his conge too.  I fancy Carthew is the favourite.  As a rule I don’t like these men who go in for racing, but he is a deuced-nice fellow.  I have seen a good deal of him.  He put me up to a good thing for the Derby ten days ago.  He gives uncommonly good supper parties, and has asked me several times, but I have not gone to them, for I believe there is a good deal of play afterwards, and I cannot stand unlimited loo.”

“Is he lucky himself?” Frank asked.

“No, quite the other way, I hear.  I know a man who has been to three or four of his suppers, and he told me that Carthew had lost every time, once or twice pretty heavily.”

“Carthew’s horse ran second, didn’t it, for the Derby?”

“Yes, the betting was twenty to one against him at starting.”

“I wonder he did not give that tip as well as the other.”

“Well, he did say that he thought it might run into a place, but that he was sure that he had no chance with the favourite.  As it turned out, he was nearer winning than he expected; for the favourite went down the day before the race, from 5 to 4 on, to 10 to 1 against.  There was a report about that he had gone wrong in some way.  Some fellows said that there had been an attempt to get at him, others that he had got a nail in his foot.  The general feeling had been that he would win in a canter, but as it was he only beat Carthew’s horse by a short head.”

“Had Carthew backed his horse to win?”

“He told me that he had only backed it for a hundred, but had put five hundred on it for a place, and as he got six to one against it he came uncommonly well out of it.”

“And do you think it likely that Miss Greendale will accept him?”

“Ah! that I cannot say.  He has certainly been making very strong running, and if I were a betting man I should not mind laying two to one on the event coming off.”

Frank joined the Osprey, which was lying off Portsmouth Harbour, on the following day.

“I am back earlier than I expected, George,” he said, as Lechmere met him at the station.  “I have got tired of London, and want to be on board again.”

“Nothing gone wrong in town, I hope, Major?” George said next day, as he was removing the breakfast things.  “You will excuse my asking, but you don’t seem to me to be yourself since you came on board.”

“Well, yes, George.  I am upset, I confess.  I am sure you will be sorry, too, when I tell you that it is more than probable that Miss Greendale is going to marry Mr. Carthew.”

George put the dish he was holding down on the table with a crash, and stood gazing at Frank in blank dismay.

“Why, sir, I thought,” he said, slowly, “that it was going to be you and Miss Greendale.  I had always thought so.  Excuse me, sir, I don’t mean any offence, but that is what we have all thought ever since she came down to christen the yacht.”