But reading or any serious pursuit was out of the question on those blue spring days in the midst of winter. There was near a week of such weather, in which poor Gervase was left to gather dust on the chimney-piece, and Monsieur de Sévérac expostulated at Hugh’s inattention. The boy’s heart was idling out in the open air, and his body must needs follow. He galloped Bayard round about the city till he knew the roads to weariness, and then, descending upon George Allestree, he dragged him out to tramp in the slushy remnants of the last snow.
“We’ll even up scores now,” Allestree said one afternoon. “You’ve haled me through the mire, which I loathe, and now I’ll make you sup in the city with me, which I know you abhor.”
So it was that in the evening Hugh found himself blinking sleepily in a brightly lighted room above a city ordinary, and roused up only at the click of the dice. At one of the small tables Allestree and Lieutenant Seymour, who had joined them, were deep in play, so Hugh got up and stood watching them. In spite of all urgings he did not play himself; the forty-five shillings he brought from Edgehill had lasted him well for spending money, but he had none to squander on the dice.
He looked up to the door as several newcomers entered,—civilians, from their lack of any regimental badge. “Why, is’t not Bellasis yonder?” Seymour asked, dicebox in hand.
“Hm,” grunted Allestree. “Throw.”
Hugh glanced curiously at the men, who had placed themselves at the next table. One that sat on the farther side—a sallow, long-legged fellow of thirty—he held to be Bellasis; meeting the man’s eyes, his thoughts went back to the day of Edgehill, when Bellasis had nearly ridden down Frank, and he felt sure of the identification. Then he turned to watch Allestree’s play; how many throws had passed he did not know, when, hearing some one speak near by, he listened carelessly.
“Oh, you do not know him, then?” a curt, incisive voice reached him. “Well, ’tis no wonder. The puppy was whelped in a gutter.”
Hugh felt a hot prickling clear to the back of his neck; but, although his whole attention was now riveted to those behind him, he did not turn.
“Yes, groom to a gang of common foot soldiers. A fellow of the name of Strangwayes took him thence in charity and employed him as body servant.”
“I stake you ten shillings,” said Allestree, reaching well across the table.