On the wall were rough charcoal sketches, some of them executed with real talent. The company was extremely mixed. There were portly foreigners, opulent Jewesses, a sprinkling of the really smart, and several ladies belonging to the oldest profession in the world.
Soon Bill led Bundle upstairs. There the weak-faced man was on guard, watching all those admitted to the gambling room with a lynx eye. Suddenly recognition came to Bundle.
"Of course," she said. "How stupid of me. It's Alfred, who used to be second footman at Chimneys. How are you, Alfred?"
"Nicely, thank you, your ladyship."
"When did you leave Chimneys, Alfred? Was it long before we got back?"
"It was about a month ago, m'lady. I got a chance of bettering myself, and it seemed a pity not to take it."
"I suppose they pay you very well here," remarked Bundle.
"Very fair, m'lady."
Bundle passed in. It seemed to her that in this room the real life of the club was exposed. The stakes were high, she saw that at once, and the people gathered round the two tables were of the true type—hawk-eyed, haggard, with the gambling fever in their blood.
She and Bill stayed there for about half an hour. Then Bill grew restive.