Shafto was located in a quiet hotel in St. Andrew Square, Edinburgh, whither he had come in hope to raise money to meet the difficulties in which he had become involved. When away from the splendid thraldom of Craigengowan—for thraldom he deemed it now—he was daily and nightly in the habit of imbibing more than he would have ventured to do there; thus he was becoming slow of speech, with the fishy eye and the fevered breath of the habitual tippler, even at his years, while in dress he adopted a style that was a curious combination of the dandy and the groom.
The many confiding tailors, jewellers, horse-copers, wine-merchants, and others whom he had honoured by his patronage were now getting beyond all bounds with their importunity and—as he thought—impertinent desire to have their bills settled; while, disgusted with him, Lord Fettercairn had been heard more than once to say, even to old Mr. Kippilaw:
'If Finella had been a boy I should not have cared so much about there being no other grandson of my own to ensure the succession and carry on the title.'
But the peer did not yet know the worst.
Occasional visits to Edinburgh, and still more those to London, were always involving Shafto in one or other disgraceful scrape; for, notwithstanding a most liberal allowance, he was often at his wits' end for money, and was over head and ears in gambling debts. Thus he was a bitter pill to the patriotic peer, his 'grandfather,' and he was on the verge, he feared, of dire disgrace, as a whole lot of post-obits might soon come to light—on the fortune he reckoned would come to him on Lord Fettercairn's death or his marriage with Finella; for with two such prospects the Jew money-lenders and other scoundrels who trade as such, in Pall Mall and elsewhere, under double names, had seen things in a 'rosy' light, and let him thus have 'no end of money.'
And now, as a means of recruiting his exchequer for a time, he bethought him of young Kippilaw, who had been left £30,000 unexpectedly by an uncle in Glasgow, and his first thought was to flatter and fleece the fellow if he could, though the spruce little W.S. was on the eve of his marriage with one of the many daughters of Lord Macowkay, the eminent senator of the College of Justice; so he invited that gentleman to a quiet little dinner at his hotel, 'Just to pick a bone—sharp eight.'
Little Kippilaw, who was always flattered by the society of a prospective peer, as something to talk about in the Parliament House, accepted with a radiant countenance; and, as he had rather a showy-looking friend who was passing through Edinburgh on his way to Drumshoddy Lodge, he asked permission to bring him.
'Certainly, of course,' said Shafto.
'Major Garallan is a client of the firm.'
'What! the old woman Drumshoddy's nephew?'
'The same.'
'All right; let us have him.'
So the Major came in due course. He was the beau-ideal of a cavalry man—tall, handsome, well set up and put together, dark-complexioned and regular-featured, with his ears and neck scorched by the Indian sun to a hue in which red and bistre were blended; but an awkward accession he proved to Shafto eventually.
The dinner, with its soup, fish, and many entrées, was all that could be desired, from the curaçoa to the coffee, and put Shafto's two guests in excellent humour with themselves and the world generally; the cloth was drawn, the wine and dessert put on, and, seated at the head of the table, Shafto almost forgot his troubles, as he took bumper after bumper of sparkling Pommery-greno, while from the tall windows could be seen the space of the stately square, with its tall central column crowned by the colossal statue, of Melville, and all its many-pillared and palatial banks and public offices whitened by the silver light of the summer moon.
The Zulu War was, of course, spoken of, the mishaps at Isandhlwana and Intombe discussed, though the subject was shirked by Shafto, who cared nothing about it, save in so far as the danger that then menaced Florian; but little Kippilaw, who was a full-blown captain in the Queen's Edinburgh Rifle Brigade, talked a vast amount of 'shop' to the amused Major Garallan, whom he ventured to instruct in the 'new method of attack,' and thereby drew out the latter insensibly to talk a little of his Indian experiences, for he had served in the expedition to Perak, against the Malays, and the Jowaki expedition on the frontier of Peshawur, and been wounded at the storming of Jummoo; affairs that, though small in themselves, went rather beyond a sham fight in the Queen's Park, including the storming of St. Anthony's Chapel and forming a rallying square in the Hunter's Bog.
And now the conversation began to flag, though Shafto had circulated the wine freely, and he thought the time had come to propose 'a little mild play.' One circumstance surprised him—that though they were supposed to be connected by marriage, the somewhat haughty Major never made the slightest reference to the subject.
'A quiet rubber of whist, with a dummy,' suggested Kippilaw.
'With a dummy, no,' said Major Garallan. 'I like poker, but——'
'Poker be hanged!' interrupted Shafto.
At this abrupt speech the Major, a well-bred man, pushed back his chair a little way, while Shafto paused and felt in his waistcoat-pocket a little white square ivory object—of which more anon.
It was arranged that Shafto and Kippilaw should have a mild game of écarté, while Major Garallan smoked, idled, and looked on, a course that the first-named gentleman by no means approved of, as, for cogent reasons, he had an intense dislike of having his play overlooked.
Kippilaw, inflamed by the wine he had taken inconsiderately—while Shafto, cautious to a degree, had not, to use a phrase of his own, 'a hair of his coat turned'—allowed himself to be lured into doubling the stakes again and again; and Shafto, who had his own ultimate end in view, while playing to all appearance with intense care, allowed himself to lose eventually the sum of £500, for which, as he had not the most remote intention of paying it, he with great liberality gave an 'IOU' to Kippilaw, who, not being an habitual gamester, but by nature and profession cautious and gentlemanly in spirit, was rather scared in accepting the document.
Then a pause ensued in the game, during which more wine—Pommery-greno—was circulated, fresh cards produced, and Shafto invited the Major to play, but he declined somewhat curtly, as Shafto thought.
He then urged Kippilaw to let him have his 'revenge,' and the latter was willing enough to let him have back the IOU if he won it, or any portion thereof, as he disliked to possess such a document signed by the son of a client of the firm, and thought secretly that he would not play a shilling beyond that sum; but he had partaken of too much champagne, which, when the Major's back was turned, Shafto contrived to dash with brandy, and soon the demon of play, rivalry and acquisitiveness overruled the reason of Kippilaw; but the nefarious action of Shafto had not been unnoticed by the Major, who had affected to be twirling his moustache by the aid of a mirror above the high black marble mantelpiece.
Shafto produced a dice-box; he lost, and Kippilaw won, as it was intended he should, and a silly laugh of exultation escaped him.
'Another IOU—you're in luck's way to-night, Kippilaw!' exclaimed Shafto.
'How much have I won?'
'A hundred and fifty.'
The play went on—the dice-box rattled again and again, while the Major, with his back against the mantelpiece, looked silently and curiously, but darkly on. Shafto won back—what he had lost as a lure—his £500, with wonderful celerity, and then another sum of £100, for which Kippilaw gave him a cheque, signed by a very unsteady hand.
'Double or quits,' said Shafto, staking the cheque, with his hand on the dice-box.
'Thanks—but I don't think I'll play any more,' said Kippilaw.
'Oh—indeed—please yourself,' said Shafto scornfully, while biting his lips with anger and disappointment—'but after gaining £500 from me—the devil—are you afraid?'
'No.'
'What then?'
'I have played enough—more deeply than I ever did before.'
'Enough!' repeated Shafto contemptuously.
'Yes.'
'Too much, indeed,' said Major Garallan suddenly; 'and, by Jove, you do right to stop, Kippilaw.'
'What the devil do you mean?' asked Shafto, becoming pale with sheer fury.
'What I say,' replied the officer coolly.
'Who the —— gave you a right to interfere?' demanded Shafto in a bullying tone.
'I have watched your play, sir, for some time past,' replied the Major quietly, 'and know right well how and why the tide of fortune turned so suddenly in your favour.'
An oath escaped Shafto, and snatching up the cards, he hurled the pack to a remote corner of the room.
'What does all this mean?' asked Kippilaw, staring half tipsily and with a scared air at the speakers.
'It means, you goose, that you have been playing with a fellow who is no better than a blackleg,' said the Major, with quiet scorn. 'No, you don't,' he added, grasping, as if with a smith's vice, the wrist of Shafto, who, uttering a cry like a jackal, seized a cut-glass decanter, with the fell intention of hurling it at the speaker's head, but the latter cowed him by one steady glance.
'You shall repent this insolence,' said Shafto, starting to his feet. 'I will teach you to question a man of honour with impunity.'
'Honour!' laughed Garallan.
'You shall hear from me, sir.'
'In what fashion—an action at law?'
'No; one perhaps you may shrink from.'
'Very probably. You don't mean a duel?'
'I do.'
'Where?'
'On the sands at Boulogne.'
'Fool! People don't fight duels nowadays, and if they did, I am not required to fight with a—swindler! That is the word, so let us hear no more high falutin. A man of honour, indeed!'
Garallan burst into a fit of scornful laughter, and Shafto, mad with rage and disappointment, was rushing to grasp the poker, when the former, in a moment, and before the apparently helpless Kippilaw could interfere, if able to do so, in any way, had struck his would-be opponent down, and wrenched from his left hand, which he tore open by main force, something that Shafto had attempted to put in his mouth, and which, on examination, proved to be—a loaded die.