BLACK SHEEP!

By THE AUTHOR OF "LAND AT LAST," "KISSING THE ROD,'
                         &c. &c.

       CHAPTER IV. IN THE BALANCE.

NOT one word came from Mrs. Carruthers
for full six weeks. The hope which had sprung
up in George Dallas's breast after the interview
with his mother in the housekeeper's room had
gone through the various stages common to
unfulfilled desires in men of sanguine
temperaments. It had been very bright at first,
and when no letter came after the lapse
of a week, it had begun to grow dim, and
then he had endeavoured to reason with himself
that the very fact of no letter coming ought to
be looked upon as a good sign, as showing that
"something was doing." Then the absence of
any news caused his hope to flicker until the
recollection of the old adage, that "no news was
good news," made it temporarily bright again;
then as the time for payment of the renewed bill
grew nearer and nearer, so did George Dallas's
prospects become gloomier and yet more
gloomy, and at last the light of hope went out,
and the darkness of despair reigned
paramount in his bosom. What could his mother
be about?  She must have pretended that she
had some bill of her own to pay, and that
the money was immediately required; old
Carruthers must have questioned her about
it, and there must have been a row; she must
have tried to "collar" the amount out of the
housekeeping—no! the sum was too large; that
was absurd! She had old friends—people who
knew and loved her well, and she must have
asked some of them to lend it to her, and
probably been refused; old friends always refuse
to lend money. She must have tried—confound
it all, he did not know, he could not guess what
she had tried! All he did know, to his sorrow,
was, that she had not sent the money; all he
knew, to his joy, was, that though he was
constantly seeing Stewart Routh, that worthy had,
as yet, uttered no word of discontent at its
non-appearance.

Not he! In the hand which Stewart Routh
was at that moment playing in the greater game
of life, the card representing a hundred and
forty pounds was one on which he bestowed
very little attention. It might, or it might not,
form part of the odd trick, either way; but it had
very little influence on his strategy and finesse.
There were times when a five-pound note might
have turned his chance, but this was not one of
them. Driven into a corner, pressed for the
means of discharging paltry debts, harassed by
dunning creditors, Stewart Routh would have
needed and claimed the money due to him by
George Dallas. Present circumstances were more
favourable, and he only needed George Dallas's
assistance in his schemes. For, Stewart Routh's
measures for raising money were of all kinds and
of all dimensions; the elephant's trunk of his
genius could pick up a five-pound-note bet from
a flat at carte, or could move the lever of a
gigantic city swindle. And he was "in for a large
thing" just at this time. Men attending
professionally the betting-ring at the great steeple-chase
then coming off, noticed Routh's absence with
wonder, and though he occasionally looked in
at two or three of the second-rate sporting
clubs of which he was a member, he was
listless and preoccupied. If he took a hand at
cards, though from mere habit he played closely
and cautiously, yet he made no great points,
and was by no means, as usual, the dashing
Paladin round whose chair men gathered
thickly, and whose play they backed cheerily.
No! The paltry gains of the dice-box and
cards paled before the glamour of the fortune
to be made in companies and shares; the
elephant's trunk was to show its strength now, as
well as its dexterity, and the genius which had
hitherto been confined to "bridging" a pack of
cards, or "securing" a die, talking over a flat
or winning money of a greenhorn, was to have
its vent in launching a great City Company.
Of this scheme Dallas knew nothing. A
disinherited man, with neither name nor influence,
would have been utterly useless; but he was
reserved for possible contingencies. Routh was
always sending to him to call, always glad to
see him when he called, and never plagued him
with allusions to his debt. But in their interviews
nothing but mere generalities were
discussed, and George noticed that he always
received a hint to go, whenever Mr. Deane was
announced.

But although Stewart Routh was seen but
seldom in his usual haunts, he was by no means
inactive or neglectful of his own interests. Day
after day he spent several hours in the City,
diligently engaged in the formation of his new
Company, a grand undertaking for working