scoundrel's business,of course. But I can always persuade myself I am not really doing verymuch harm, certainly not as much as the swindling sort ofcompany-promoter. I win money from rich fools, rob them, if you like;it does at least as much good in my pockets as theirs.'
"I suppose there was already some moral kink in me waiting to blossomforth under proper encouragement. For though I was very much startled,I cannot say that I was profoundly shocked, as I might have been by aless subtle form of robbery.
"I did not accept or refuse that night, I wanted to think. I knew itwas the turning of the ways. On the one hand well-paid roguery, withthe accompanying delights of the fashionable world, on the other thedeadly, drab life of the poor City drudge. In the morning my mind wasmade up. I went into partnership with my new friend."
"And you made a fortune, I suppose?" asked Spencer, in a very coldvoice.
Esmond shook his head, and Spencer was not at all sure that the nextwords were truthful ones.
"No, a comfortable living, nothing more. We made a good deal, but wehad to lose a good deal, too, in order to avert suspicion."
"Your friend is dead, you say. So you went on with it after his death?"
"Yes, for a little time alone. Then I, too, got in a partner, the manwho was with me to-night."
There was a long silence between the two men. Spencer broke it first.
"And what are your plans?" he asked.
"I shall sneak out of the country to-morrow morning and make my way toFrance. I shall hide myself in some little out-of-the-way village underan assumed name, and rust out." The little man rose and looked at hisformer friend with an embarrassed air. "Well, thanks for havinglistened to me so patiently. It has been a tremendous relief to me topour it all out."
He did not offer his hand, for he felt certain it would not be taken.Spencer stopped him as he was at the door.
"You have money, I suppose, something put by out of your--yourwinnings?"
Esmond's voice was hesitating. Again it was very doubtful if he wasspeaking the truth. "Hardly a _sou_ out of them. It was lightly come,lightly go, all the time. But my father left me a little bit which willkeep me going in a cheap place."
Spencer did not believe him. The probability was he had put away safelya snug little nest-egg, in view of the detection which might come at anymoment of such a hazardous occupation.
"One word before you go," said the young man finally. "Is there muchcheating going on at Elsinore Gardens?"
Esmond turned and looked the speaker straight in the face. This time hecertainly seemed to be speaking the truth, but he might be a mostaccomplished liar.
"None at all, except when I and my partner were there. If there hadbeen, I should have spotted it. I'm awfully sorry for Mrs L'Estrange,for it having happened at her house, for I daresay people will hintnasty things."
"She didn't suspect anything, then?"
"Not a bit," replied Esmond. "We didn't play there more than abouttwice a week, and we never went in for high stakes. And, of course, wehad to lose pretty often, to make things look square."
"And Miss Keane suspected nothing either." As he remembered the girl'sbeautiful face, and sad history, Spencer felt almost ashamed of himselffor putting the question.
"Bless your soul, no, a thousand times no." The little rogue seemed tospeak with unusual warmth. "Why, she loathes cards, she never can begot to join in. She has suffered too much from gambling."
He went out of the room slowly and into the night. Spencer half pitiedthe poor devil who had made such a hash of his life through his desireto step out of his own class. He sat down and ruminated a long timeover the strange history which had been unfolded to him.
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The next morning, the fugitive, Tommy Esmond, caught the morning trainfrom Charing Cross. He looked very sad and woebegone, a pitiablefigure, friendless and alone.
But not quite friendless. A young woman closely-veiled and dressed veryplainly rose up from one of the seats as he came on the platform, andtouched him lightly on the arm. He recognised her, and glanced roundanxiously.
"It was very dear and sweet of you to come, Stella, but very imprudent.You might be seen by half a dozen people."
"I know," answered Miss Keane, for the closely-veiled woman was she. "Igot your letter this morning and could not bear you should go without alast good-bye. Well, I can see you are anxious. I will say it, and getback."
She lifted the veil for a second, and held up her face. The little mankissed her hastily, and then made for his train.
It was evident he had one friend left in the London he was flying fromas a fugitive and outlaw, one woman who pitied him.
And, at the same time that Stella was walking swiftly from the station,Guy Spencer was making up his mind that he would pay a visit to ElsinoreGardens in the afternoon, to see how the land lay there.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
About five o'clock on the afternoon of the day following Esmond'sconfession, Guy Spencer rang the bell at Mrs L'Estrange's flat inElsinore Gardens.
The decorous-looking butler opened the door. He seemed to wear a sadand chastened demeanour, as if overborne with the tragic events of theprevious night. Of course, all servants know what is going on in thehouse of their employers. A scandal such as this must have quicklypenetrated to them.
"Is Mrs L'Estrange at home?"
The sad-faced butler answered at once; he could tell a lie with as muchgrace as anybody, but here there was no need to lie.
"Mrs L'Estrange is at home, sir, in a manner of speaking, but she isvery ill, as a matter of fact in bed. Of course she cannot see anyvisitors."
"Oh, I quite understand," said Spencer hastily. "Is Miss Keane in? Ifso, I would like to see her for a few moments."
The melancholy man in black opened the door a few inches. "Miss Keaneis in, sir, but I am afraid she is not very well, either. Will youkindly step in, sir, and I will find out if she can see you?"
It was evident that Tommy Esmond and his equally nefarious partner hadcast a gloom over the whole establishment. Spencer was ushered into thepretty drawing-room. In a few moments, Stella Keane came in. She wasevidently under the stress of great emotion. There were dark shadowsround the eyes, as if she had passed a sleepless night. Even herperfect mouth had a listless droop.
But, in spite of her pallor, the dark shadows round her eyes, and thatpathetic droop, she was still very beautiful. Pathos became her. GuySpencer's heart gave a great leap as he saw her. There was about her anoverpowering, an irresistible fascination.
She advanced towards him with outstretched hands. She spoke in a brokenvoice, the perfectly moulded lips trembled:
"It is so sweet of you to come. Of course you have heard? It is allover the town by now. Oh, this thrice-accursed gambling, the love ofwhich induces decent men to cheat, and become outcasts from theirworld."
She spoke with the deepest emotion, her bosom heaving, her voice brokenby the catchings of the breath.
"He was such a good little man, he was always so kind to me," she wenton. "And last night those awful happenings. Branded a cheat, he andhis friend, and they could not deny it. They had to slink out. I havehardly closed my eyes during the night, Mr Spencer; my poor cousin isprostrated." She added with a shudder: "My girlhood was passed amidst agambling set, but I never had an experience like this."
She collected herself, and rang for tea. "You will sit down," she said."You can understand I should have denied myself to anybody but you, Iam so terribly upset. It is still like a nightmare."
Spencer sat down as he was bidden. "I had a visit from Esmond lastnight," he said briefly. "He came straight on from Elsinore Gardens.He told me what had happened, he told me the whole history of theterrible thing, how he has been making his living by cheating at cards,since he was a young man." Miss Keane raised her hands in mutedeprecation. "How awful! That, of course, I did not know. I ha
d aletter from him this morning, apologising, if one can apologise for sucha thing, telling me he was going to live abroad under an assumed name.It was a very short letter. His chief concern seemed to be that he had,incidentally, made it unpleasant for Mrs L'Estrange."
"How does Mrs L'Estrange take it?"
Miss Keane shrugged her shoulders. "She is a little bit hysterical, youknow. One moment, she vows she will shut up the flat and go abroad, forfear of the nasty things that people will say. The next moment, shesays that, confident in her perfect innocence, she will stay and facethe music, and give her parties as usual."
"Has she asked your advice?" queried Spencer.
"She has, and my advice is to go on as usual. It is not her