“Since our ways lie together, yes,” replied Fortescue, linking his arm in the Duke’s. “Down Brock Street and across the Circus is our quickest way.”

They strolled down the road for a few moments in silence, passing a linkman on the way. Fortescue bade him a cheery good night, which was answered in a very beery voice, but the Duke said nothing. Frank looked into his dark-browed face thoughtfully.

“You’ve had the luck, tonight, Tracy.”

“Moderately. I hoped entirely to repair last week’s losses.”

“You are in debt, I suppose?”

“I believe so.”

“To what extent, Tracy?”

“My dear fellow, I neither have, nor wish to have, the vaguest notion. Pray do not treat me to a sermon!”