The Gambler Part 76

"And why think?" he spoke calmly, considerately, without a tinge of disturbing emotion. "Why think? Why write that troublesome letter? Why ask a favour when, by granting one----"

"Granting one----?"

"Yes. When, by granting a favour, you can make everything smooth. Think what it would be to me, for instance, if some of the money I am saddled with were used to bring you happiness--or peace! Think of the favour _you_ would be doing _me_!"

She half rose, then sank back again.

"Oh, but I couldn't! How could I?"

"And why not? Look! I have only to open my cheque-book"--he very quietly drew a cheque-book from his breast-pocket--"find the all-powerful pen"--he searched for, and produced, a gold pen--"and--look!"

He wrote rapidly for a moment; then held a fluttering white paper in front of Clodagh's eyes.

"Look!"

With a little start, a little cry of deprecation, she rose from her seat. In a flash of memory she recalled the night on the balcony at Venice, when he had kissed her hand; she recalled the letter she had found awaiting her in her room at the hotel. In sudden fear, she glanced at him. Then her fear faltered. To her searching eyes, he presented the same aspect that he had a.s.sumed since their first meeting in London--the aspect of a tried, deferential friend.

"How could I?" she asked again; but unconsciously her tone had weakened.

For answer, Deerehurst folded up the cheque and held it out to her with a respectful--almost a formal bow.

"By extending to me the merest act of friends.h.i.+p."

She sat very still, not attempting to take the cheque.

"I--I could not repay it before January--perhaps not entirely even then."

"January, or any time. I understand the art of patience."

For one moment longer her uncertain glance wandered from the slip of paper to the glowing rose bushes; from the roses to the cold malignant face of the satyr that confronted her across the strip of gra.s.s.

"You--you are very kind. In--in January, then."

Deerehurst bowed again. And in complete silence the cheque pa.s.sed from his hand to hers.

CHAPTER XI

Action--decisive action--always brings relief. An hour after it had come into her possession, Clodagh had dispatched Deerehurst's cheque to her bankers in London; and when, at seven o'clock, she entered Nance's room with the intention of dressing for the night's festivities, she was carrying a cheque from her own book.

As she came into the room, Nance was kneeling before her trunk; but at the sound of the closing door she looked round, and sprang to her feet with a cry of delight.

"Clo!" she cried, running forward--"Clo, how lovely of you to come!

Shall we dress together, like long ago?" Then her eyes fell to the folded slip of paper in Clodagh's hand. "What is that?" she asked curiously.

Clodagh looked down at the cheque.

"I have come to do my duty!" she said, with a faint laugh. "Here is your thousand pounds, darling. May it be enough to buy everything in life worth having!"

Her voice faltered on the last words; but the touch of emotion was lost in a sudden embrace from Nance.

"Oh, you darling!--you love!" she cried. "A thousand pounds! I feel a queen!" She drew back a little, flus.h.i.+ng with excitement and pleasure; and opened the cheque almost reverently. "And can I really, really get a thousand pounds by signing my name on the back of this? I can't believe it, you know--I simply _can't_."

She raised her s.h.i.+ning eyes to Clodagh's.

Clodagh's face softened.

"Oh, you child!" she said--"you child! It makes me remember our weekly pennies, just to listen to you. How poor--and how very happy--we were long ago! Do you remember?"

Nance gave a little cry of recollection.

"Remember, Clo! _Could_ I forget?"

Then followed another impulsive embrace, a kiss, and a whole torrent of reminiscence. And a quarter of an hour had slipped away before the entrance of Simonetta with Clodagh's dress recalled them to the knowledge of present things.

Five minutes before the dinner hour had struck, the sisters entered the hall. At the foot of the stairs Nance was detained by George Tuffnell; while Clodagh, left alone for the moment, was at once claimed by Serracauld.

He came forward from one of the windows, moving with his usual graceful indolence, and, pausing beside her, looked intently into her face.

"You look radiant to-night," he said.

She laughed.

"Can one ever look radiant in black?"

Serracauld's eyes pa.s.sed slowly from her face to her slim white neck.

"Yes," he said, in his cool, deliberate voice.

She gave another laugh, slightly shorter and more conscious than the last. But before she could speak again, he moved a trifle nearer, and laid his fingers lightly on her fan.

"And how many dances am I to have?"

"I told you I must not dance--yet."

"And I told you that I would not make you dance. How many may I have?"

He bent very close to her; then frowned a little, and drew away again, as Lady Frances Hope, followed by Mrs. Bathurst and Mansfeldt, came towards them across the hall.

"You'll give me the dances?" he asked quickly.

Clodagh glanced at the approaching party; then bent her head in a.s.sent.

"And which?"