great believer in light: the electricbulbs glowed softly, but brilliantly, over the two rooms devoted to theservice of the card-players.
On the sideboards were arranged decanters of whisky, and soda-water inbottles and syphons. Whether he lost or won, the gambler, triumphant ordespairing, could quaff to his success, or solace his despair.
The elderly, youthfully-dressed woman advanced towards the new visitors,with a beaming expression of countenance.
"Mr Spencer, you will join us. What is your favourite game?"
"Bridge," said Spencer, shortly. He was already a bit in love withStella Keane, but he was by no means favourably inclined to her gushing,elderly cousin.
He soon formed a party of four, and became absorbed, for the moment, inthe game. Tommy Esmond was playing the same game, at a table somedistance from him. Tommy was not supposed to be wealthy, but heevidently had money enough to indulge in a quiet gamble now and then.
He remembered every incident of that night. His partner was asubordinate member of the Government, and a good sound player, lacking alittle perhaps in the qualities of initiative and rapid decision. Hisopponents were a young man in the Foreign Office, and a slender,hawk-nosed young woman of about thirty.
All through he held abominable cards, but, truth to tell, he was notvery interested in the game. Whether he won or lost a hundred poundsdid not interest him very greatly.
But what did interest him, to every fibre of his being, was that StellaKeane hovered about his table. His eyes continually sought hers, andshe did not seem to avoid his glance. At times he was sure he coulddetect a slight smile of intimacy. After all, had he not rescued her,half dead with fright, in the dining-room of the "Excelsior?"
Once she bent over him and whispered, her cool, fragrant breath fanninghis cheek: "You are having shocking bad luck. You haven't held a singledecent card."
He whispered back: "What did I tell you a little time ago? I flattermyself I am a fairly good bridge-player, but what could one do withthose cards of mine?"
She fluttered away, with still the shadow of that intimate smile uponher beautiful mouth, the smile that seemed to say they had only knowneach other for a few hours, under romantic and dramatic circumstances,but there was between them an affinity of spirit.
He played on steadily for over an hour, and then a halt was cried. Theyoung gentleman from the Foreign Office and the hawk-nosed young womanhad scored. Guy Spencer rose from the table, the poorer by a hundredand fifty pounds. He wrote his cheque with a light heart. A hundredand fifty pounds was not a great price to pay for the introduction toStella Keane.
Mrs L'Estrange came impressively towards him.
"Oh, Mr Spencer, I hope you have not lost. If so, I fear you willnever come near me again." His glance roved in the direction of Stella,talking, as it appeared earnestly, to that bounder of a cousin. Therecame a steely look into his clear, resolute eyes.
"If you will allow me, I shall be delighted to come here often to seeyou and Miss Keane. I suppose I had better pick up my old friend TommyEsmond, if he is not too engrossed." But when he approached Esmond,that little rotund gentleman waved him away, in most genial fashion.
"Run away, dear boy. It is Eclipse first, and the rest nowhere. I amwinning hands down." Certainly he bore the mien of a conqueror. Andthere, behind his chair, stood Stella Keane.
She welcomed Spencer with that faint, intimate smile which had alreadystirred his pulses.
"I fear I brought you bad luck," she said, in her low, caressing voice."But to Mr Esmond I have been the harbinger of good fortune. Are youreally going?"
"I always go when I have won enough, or lost enough. You remember Igave you a little homily on gambling generally, not so long ago."
She took her hand off Esmond's chair. "Well, I will leave my goodinfluence behind, and look after the parting guest."
She walked leisurely with him in the direction of the hall. It wasdeserted, but the light was brilliant, as it was in every other cornerof the flat.
She held out her hand impulsively. "Mr Spencer, I have not thanked youproperly for your kindness to me to-night. Terror-stricken, paralysedwith fear, I should have been clinging to that chair now, if you had notrescued me in time. How can I thank you?"
Spencer laughed lightly. "One would think from your excessive gratitudethat you had not experienced a great deal of kindness in your life. Andyet that would be impossible." She flushed a little; his gaze wasperhaps more full of admiration, of frank and open compliment than couldbe justified by the briefness of their acquaintance. And yet it onlyexpressed what he was inwardly thinking.
Here was a girl who had only to look at her mirror to learn she wasendowed with singular beauty. She must also know that she combined withher more than ordinary fairness an unusual charm of manner.
How had it come about that one with such striking qualifications shouldexhibit a certain underlying sadness, as if the world had already proveda very disappointing place? Youth and good looks usually secure fortheir owner a good time. Girls with half her attractions could findplenty of admirers. What evil fate dogged her that she had to regard aperfectly common act of kindness as something to be exceptionallygrateful for?
"I have never been petted nor spoiled, even as a child," she answeredgravely. "My father and mother were ignorant of the duties, as theywere of the instincts, of parenthood. And since my poor pretence of ahome was broken up, I have been a derelict and a wanderer, sometimes atolerated guest, rarely, I fear, a very welcome one in the houses ofother people."
"But you are happy here, surely?" he suggested. After saying so much,she could hardly regard the question as an impertinent one. He longedto hear her history. Well, if he came and cultivated her, and let hersee how sympathetic he could be, one day she would tell him.
She shrugged her shoulders with an air of indifference.
"My cousin is peculiar in many ways, and her devotion to play is anobsession. We have very little in common; still, it would not be fairto say she was difficult to get on with. I have been with her now formore than eighteen months, and although we have often held totallydifferent opinions, I cannot remember that we have ever had a realquarrel. And, anyway, it is a home and a shelter, and that issomething."
Not much enthusiasm here, certainly. Mrs L'Estrange had been dismissedwith a very negative kind of faint praise. Her excellence seemed to lierather in the absence of bad qualities than the possession of good ones.
And yet, he could not bring himself to believe that Miss Keane was anill-natured girl, or of an unresponsive temperament. He had to admitthat his impressions of his hostess were not too favourable.
She was outwardly genial, and at times gushing. Yet he fancied he couldread behind this plausible exterior the signs of a hard, worldly nature.There was no softness in her glance, no tenderness in her rather hard,staccato tones.
A girl with those glorious eyes, and mobile face, with the delicatecomplexion that flushed and paled by turns, must surely be sweet andsympathetic, and responsive to affection. How her voice had thrilledwith emotion when she thanked him. If she was disappointed in hercousin, it must be the fault of the elder woman, who could not give whatwas demanded by the younger and more ardent temperament.
He would have lingered longer, trying to pierce the riddle from thesedisjointed remarks, but they were interrupted by Tommy Esmond, who camebustling into the hall, flushed with victory.
"Never had such luck in my life. Just wiped the floor with them," heexplained excitedly. "You left your good influence behind, Miss Keane.A few minutes sufficed for victory."
"I am very glad, but I think my powers for good must be very limited,for I brought bad luck to your friend," was her smiling rejoinder.
He turned briskly to the young man. "It is a perfect night, Spencer.Shall we walk down to the Club to get a breath of fresh air, and turn inthere for a quiet smoke?"
Spencer nodded assent, and held out his hand to Miss Keane.
"
Well, good-bye for the present."
"And I hope you will come and see us again soon. Don't wait for MrEsmond to bring you: after our thrilling experiences of to-night, we aremore than ordinary acquaintances. We are at home nearly every night, ifyou want to gamble. And, if you would like a little rational chatinstead, come in one afternoon to tea."
"Thanks, I will. My card-playing fit has passed for a little time.Once again, good-bye."
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And, as soon as they were in the street, Esmond burst in with thequestion he was longing to ask.
"Well, what do you think of her? Did I exaggerate?"
"Not in the least," answered Spencer, speaking less seriously than hefelt, he did not quite know for what reason, unless it was that with aman of his friend's calibre, he always had a tendency