Eversleigh drank slowly from his glass. For a while it seemed as if he would not answer. Eventually he looked up at Sir Wilfred, his eyes keen behind the heavy lids, a cynical smile playing about his lips.

"Now what would that wager be, Wilfred?" he asked.

Sir Wilfred leaned back in his chair and steepled his smooth fingers beneath his chin. The light of a new game shoe in his eyes. In fact, all the occupants of the room suddenly looked less melancholy and riveted their attention on the two cerebral players.

"If you are serious, Marius," Sir Wilfred said, "I wish to see your betrothal announcement in the Morning Post within the nonth and your marriage vows given within two."

Eversleigh's eyes were steady on his challenger. The smile that was not quite a smile curled one side of his mouth even further. "Ah, but you make things almost too simple, Wilfred," he said quietly.

Sir Wilfred smiled too. "Very well, Marius. If you insist on talking yourself into a quite impossible corner. Shall we say six weeks?"

Eversleigh's expression remained unchanged.

"I say, old boy," Horton said, interrupting the air of interested tension in the room, "aren't you acting rather hastily here? As Wilfred said a while ago, we are talking life sentences here, you know. It's no topic for a light bet, Marius. "

Eversleigh showed no sign of having heard him. "And if I win?" he asked Denning.

Sir Wilfred considered for a moment. "I have too much regard for your good sense to believe that you will carry this through, Marius," he said. Then he smiled. "If you win, Eversleigh, my matched grays."

Eversleigh's brows rose. "You must be confident, my dear chap," he said lazily. "I have been trying all winter to get you to sell me those horses. And now you are prepared to give them away?"

"I do not believe I am in any danger," Sir Wilfred replied.