"What part of the twenty-five thousand went into the arsenic?" he said,
after a pause. There was no feeling in the voice now; it was again even
and inquiring.

"Nearly all."

"Don't lie. You've been living freely. Tell the truth, or--or I'll know
the reason why, Billy."

"About two-thirds-that's the truth. I had debts, and I paid them."

"And you bet on the races?"

"Yes."

"And lost?"

"Yes. See here, Charley; it was the most awful luck--"

"Yes, for the fatherless children and widows, and all that are
oppressed!"

Charley's look again went through and beyond the culprit, and he recalled
his wife's words and his own reply. A quick contempt and a sort of
meditative sarcasm were in the tone. It was curious, too, that he could
smile, but the smile did not encourage Billy Wantage now.

"It's all gone, I suppose?" he added.