British Mysteries Omnibus - The Emma Orczy Edition (65+ Titles in One Edition). Emma Orczy
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and introspective life, which never do anything half-heartedly; and just as he took his somewhat empty secretarial duties seriously, so did he look on this self-imposed task, against which his better judgment rebelled, with earnestness and determination.
He listened attentively to the preliminary explanations given him sotto voce by Endicott. Segrave in the meanwhile had taken the latter's place at the head of the table. He had put all his money in front of him, some two hundred and sixty pounds all told, for his winnings during the last half hour had not been as steady as heretofore, and he had not yet succeeded altogether in making up that sum of money for which he yearned with all the intensity of a disturbed conscience, eager to redeem one miserable fault by another hardly more avowable.
He shuffled the cards and dealt just as Endicott had done.
"Now will you look at your card, young sir," said Endicott, who stood behind Lambert's chair, whispering directions in his ear. "A splendid card, begad! and one on which you must stake freely. . . . Nay! nay! that is not enough," he added, hurriedly restraining the young man's hand, who had timidly pushed a few silver coins forward. "'Tis thus you must do!"
And before Lambert had time to protest the rotund man in the cinnamon doublet and the wide lace cuffs, had emptied the contents of the little leather wallet upon the table.
Five golden guineas rested on Lambert's card. Segrave turned up his own and declared:
"I pay queen and upwards!"
"A two, by gad!" said Lord Walterton, too confused in his feeble head now to display any real fury. "Did anyone ever see such accursed luck?"
"And look at this nine," quoth Sir Michael, who had become very sullen; "not a card to-night!"
"I have a king," said Lambert quietly.
"And as I had the pleasure to remark before, my dear young friend," said Endicott blandly, "'tis a mighty good card to hold. . . . And see," he continued, as Segrave without comment added five more golden guineas to Lambert's little hoard, "see how wise it was to stake a goodly sum . . . That is the whole art of the game of primero . . . to know just what to stake on each card in accordance with its value and the law of averages. . . . But you will learn in time, young man you will learn. . . ."
"The game doth not appear to be vastly complicated," assented Lambert lightly.
"I have played primero on a system for years . . ." quoth Lord Walterton sententiously, "but to-night . . . hic . . . by Gad! . . . I cannot make the system work right . . . hic!"
But already Segrave was dealing again. Lambert staked more coolly now. In his mind he had already set aside the original five guineas which came from his grandmother. With strange ease and through no merit of his own, yet perfectly straightforwardly and honestly, he had become the owner of another five; these he felt more justified in risking on the hazard of the game.
But the goddess of Fortune smiling benignly on this country-bred lad, had in a wayward mood apparently taken him under her special protection. He staked and won again, and then again pleased at his success . . . in spite of himself feeling the subtle poison of excitement creeping into his veins . . . yet remaining perfectly calm outwardly the while.
Segrave, on the other hand, was losing in exact proportion to the newcomer's winnings: already his pile of gold had perceptibly diminished, whilst the hectic flush on his cheeks became more and more accentuated, the glitter in his eyes more unnatural and feverish, his hands as they shuffled and dealt the cards more trembling and febrile.
"'Pon my honor," quoth Sir Marmaduke, throwing a careless glance at the table, "meseems you are in luck, my good Lambert. Doubtless, you are not sorry now that you allowed yourself to be persuaded."
"'Tis not unpleasant to win," rejoined Lambert lightly, "but believe me, sir, the game itself gives me no pleasure."
"I pay knave and upwards," declared Segrave in a dry and hollow voice, and with burning eyes fixed upon his new and formidable opponent.
"My last sovereign, par Dieu!" swore Lord Walterton, throwing the money across to Segrave with an unsteady hand.
"And one of my last," said Sir Michael, as he followed suit.
"And what is your stake, Master Lambert?" queried Segrave.
"Twenty pounds I see," replied the young man, as with a careless hand he counted over the gold which lay pell-mell on his card; "I staked on the king without counting."
Segrave in his turn pushed some gold towards him. The pile in front of him was not half the size it had been before this stranger from the country had sat down to play. He tried to remain master of himself, not to show before these egotistical, careless cavaliers all the agony of mind which he now endured and which had turned to positive physical torture.
The ghost of stolen money, of exposure, of pillory and punishment which had so perceptibly paled as he saw the chance of replacing by his unexpected winnings that which he had purloined, once more rose to confront him. Again he saw before him the irascible employer, pointing with relentless finger at the deficiency in the accounts, again he saw his weeping mother, his stern father, — the disgrace, the irretrievable past.
"You are not leaving off playing, Sir Michael?" he asked anxiously, as the latter having handed him over a golden guinea, rose from the table and without glancing at his late partners in the game, turned his back on them all.
"Par Dieu!" he retorted, speaking roughly, and none too civilly over his shoulder, "my pockets are empty. . . . Like Master Lambert here," he added with an unmistakable sneer, "I find no pleasure in this sort of game!"
"What do you mean?" queried Segrave hotly.
"Oh, nothing," rejoined the other dryly, "you need not heed my remark. Are you not losing, too?"
"What does he mean?" said Lambert with a puzzled frown, instinctively turning to his employer.
"Naught! naught! my good Lambert," replied Sir Marmaduke, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Sir Michael Isherwood hath lost more than he can afford and is somewhat choleric of temper, that is all."
"And in a little quiet game, my good young friend," added Endicott, also in a whisper, "'tis wisest to take no heed of a loser's vapors."
"I pay ace only!" quoth Segrave triumphantly, who in the meanwhile had continued the game.
Lord Walterton swore a loud and prolonged oath. He had staked five guineas on a king and had lost.
"Ventre-saint-gris, and likewise par le sang-bleu!" he said, "the first time I have had a king! Segrave, ye must leave me these few little yellow toys, else I cannot pay for my lodgings to-night. . . . I'll give you a bill . . . but I've had enough of this, by Gad!"
And somewhat sobered, though still unsteady, he rose from the table.
"Surely, my lord, you are not leaving off, too?" asked Segrave.
"Nay! . . . how can I continue?" He turned his breeches pockets ostentatiously inside out. "Behold, friend, these two beautiful and innocent little dears!"
"You can give me more bills . . ." urged Segrave, "and you lose . . . you may not lose after this . . . 'tis lucky to play on credit . . . and . . . and your bills are always met, my lord . . ."
He spoke with feverish volubility, though his throat was parched and every word he uttered caused him pain. But he was determined that the game should proceed.
He had won a little of his own back again the last few rounds. Certainly his luck would turn once more. His luck must turn once more, or else . . .
"Nay! nay! I've had enough," said Lord Walterton, nodding a heavy head up and down, "there are too many of my bills about as it is. . . . I've had enough."
"Methinks, of a truth," said Lambert decisively, "that the game has indeed lasted long enough. . . . And if some other gentleman would but take my place . . ."
He made a movement as if to rise from the table, but was checked by a harsh laugh and a peremptory word from Segrave.
"Impossible,"