fault thatblacklegs have crept into her circle. They creep into the best houses,the best clubs. So long as this cursed gambling goes on, there will besharpers."
"That's true," remarked Spencer, remembering a few episodes that hadoccurred in his time. "And, I suppose, you will still cast in your lotwith her?"
The look on the beautiful face grew more pathetic than ever.
"What can I do, Mr Spencer? I have told you my position. I wish mycousin were a different woman altogether, I wish she were not soinfatuated with this horrible gambling. But I cannot influence her.She is too old and set to turn over a new leaf."
Every moment the girl's fascination took a deeper hold of him. She wasso very beautiful, so very seductive. But he still kept himself incheck.
"Tell me what actually happened last night. How were Esmond and hispartner found out?"
There was a little interruption by the solemn-faced butler who broughtin tea. Miss Keane busied herself amongst the cups before she replied.
"It is, as I told you, all a nightmare to me. I was wandering aimlesslyabout; as I have told you before, I never play, I loathe cards too much.Suddenly there was a scene at the table where Mr Esmond and hispartner were playing. Three men were standing watching the game, theyhad come here often, I knew their names."
"They were friends of Mrs L'Estrange?" queried Spencer.
Just a faint shade of hesitation crept into the low voice.
"Oh yes, friends of my cousin."
"Straight sort of chaps, of course."
"I have no doubt of that. They accused Mr Esmond and his partner,Major Golightly, of cheating. Of course the charge was denied, but veryhalf-heartedly. These three men were backed by others who had seensomething suspicious. It seems Mr Esmond and his partner had arousedsuspicion before. Finally they confessed, and slunk out of the house."
She paused a moment, and then laid her hand impulsively on his arm.
"That first night you came to our house, you lost. Did you play at thesame table with Tommy Esmond? I forget."
The answer came straight. "No, I lost something, what was it?--something about a hundred and fifty. But Tommy Esmond did not rook methat time, he was playing at another table. I remember he was verycock-a-hoop, he was winning hand over fist. I say, I know I am puttinga very impertinent question, but were Tommy Esmond and his partner, thisMajor Golightly, the only sharpers who came to this flat? Did I lose myhundred and fifty, or whatever it was, quite honestly?"
Miss Keane covered her face with her hands for a few seconds, and whenshe took them away, he could see that tears were slowly trickling downher cheeks.
"Heaven knows, Mr Spencer, I don't. My cousin is a strange woman. Sheis fond of gaiety, of excitement. She asks people about whom she knowsnothing to her flat, I think," she added with an hysterical laugh; "shefancies she is making herself a queen of Society. If she can get herrooms full that is all she wants. When she does that, she fanciesherself the Duchess."
"I think I understand," said Spencer gravely. "And I take it you wouldgive heaven and earth to get out of this environment?"
"If you only knew how I loathe it," she cried, in a fervent tone."Sometimes I think I would rather run away and be a shopgirl or awaitress, to get rid of this horrible atmosphere."
Guy Spencer was very perturbed. He rose and walked up and down theroom--it was his habit to walk about, even in confined spaces, when hewas in an emotional mood.
At length he turned, and faced her squarely. "Look here, Miss Keane.It's rather nonsense talking about being a waitress or a shopgirl. Youtold me you had a small income saved from the wreck. How much is it? Iam asking in no spirit of impertinent curiosity. I have a reason forasking."
She hesitated for a moment before she replied: "Something like a hundreda year--paid to me quarterly by my cousin, Mr Dutton, who is mytrustee."
"Then you are not exactly a pauper. Shopgirls and waitresses don't earnthat."
"But it would help," said Miss Keane, in a stifled voice. "A hundred ayear does not go far; with clothes and everything."
He longed to take her in his arms there and then and ask her to be hiswife, so far was he subjugated by her subtle fascination. But certainthings occurred to him. He thought of his old ancestry, his uncle whoseheir he would be, even a faint idea of his cousin Nina flashed throughhis mind. What would his relatives say to a marriage like that, themarriage with a girl, however beautiful, picked up in a flat, owned by awoman of good family but doubtful reputation?
But he could not afford to lose her. He was rich, he could indulge anypassing whim. Out of his new-born ideas he spoke.
"Miss Keane, I am very interested in you. Will you agree to look uponme as a friend?"
She looked up at him from under downcast eyes.
"Mr Spencer, somehow I have always looked upon you as a friend, assomething different from the ordinary man I meet in a place like this."
"You want to get out of this atmosphere, away from your card-playingcousin, who cannot keep her parties free from disgraceful scandals."
"I have told you how fervently I long to say good-bye to it all."
Spencer had made up his mind as to what he was going to do. It wasquixotic, but then he was a quixotic person. And, anyway, he wasmarking time. He would ask her to marry him in the end, but, at themoment, he did not clearly see his way to do so.
"Suppose a woman friend offered to lend you five hundred pounds, toenable you to get clear of this stifling atmosphere, what would you say?You could go and live where you like and look around."
"If a woman friend asked me that I think I should say, yes."
"You have agreed that I am your friend, true, a man friend," said Guy."Suppose I made you the same offer, what is your answer?"
"From a man friend I fear my answer must be an unhesitating `no,' evento you."
He admired her answer. He could gather from it that she respectedherself too much to snatch at any offer that came along.
But he would play with her still. "Why?" he asked.
The beautiful eyes, still a little clouded with her tears, met hisunfalteringly.
"You know as well as I do," was her answer. "I am poor, Mr Spencer,but I am very proud."
He sat down beside her, and took her hand in his.
"I admire you for that answer, Stella. I may call you Stella, may Inot? But I am not quite the ordinary type of man. I am going to speakquite plainly to you. If you accept that five hundred pounds, I am notgoing to ask you for any return. I want you to understand that."
She shot at him a swift glance from under the downcast eyes.
"You are a man out of a thousand, nay, out of ten thousand," she said,and in her voice there was a note of great appreciation. If StellaKeane ever felt a good impulse in her life, it was towards this man whowas doing his best to befriend her.
"Listen to me," said Spencer persuasively, her delicate hand still lyingin his. "I don't know that I have done much good to other people in mylife, but I do want to help you. I should like to get you out of thisbeastly hole. My proposal is, that I shall take for you a littlefurnished flat and supplement your income, or give you the five hundredpounds down, to do what you like with. It is for you to choose."
"You would do this for me?" said Stella softly. "You must really likeme, then! Men don't do this sort of thing for women unless they likethem."
"I like you very much, Stella, and I want to help you."
He knew that he could take her in his arms and kiss her at his will.But he forebore. He was not going to spoil this somewhat idyllicwooing.
"It cannot take place for a week or so," she said presently. "I cannotquite leave my cousin in the lurch. I must give her some sort ofnotice. Of course, I can make the excuse that the events of last nighthave completely shattered my nerve."
"I don't wonder," was Spencer's comment. "Now, about this little matterwe have been speaking of. I think it would be better if I paid thismoney into your bank, and
left you to make your own arrangements. Isuppose you have a bank?"
Yes, Miss Keane had a banking-account, a very small one. She smilinglyremarked that it would give the manager a shock when such a large sumwas paid into it.
"I will draw the money in cash to-morrow and bring it to you," saidSpencer. "Then nobody will be able to guess from whom it comes."
He rose, he could not trust himself to stay very much longer. At anymoment his reserve might break down. He might be impelled to change therole of the benevolent friend into that of the ardent lover.
And for a long time after he had left, Stella Keane sat absorbed in themost serious thoughts.
There was no doubt he was ardently in love with