“But who says they are factitious?” cried Paten, angrily. “The money that passes from hand to hand, as current coin, may have some alloy in its composition a chemist might call base, but it will not serve to stamp it as fraudulent. I tell you, Stocmar, it is the whole fortune of a man's life to be associated with such a woman. They can mar or make you.”
“More likely the first,” muttered Stocmar. And then added aloud, “And as to her fortune, you actually know nothing.”
“Nothing beyond the fact that there's money somewhere. The girl or she, I can't say which, has it.”
“And of course, in your eyes, it 's like a pool at écarté: you don't trouble your head who are the contributors?”
“Not very much if I win, Stocmar!” said he, resuming at once all the wonted ease of his jovial manner.
Stocmar walked the deck in deep thought. The terrible tale he had just heard, though not new in all its details, had impressed him fearfully, while at the same time he could not conceive how a man so burdened with a horrible past could continue either to enjoy the present or speculate on the future.
At last he said, “And have you no dread of recognition, Ludlow? Is the danger of being known and addressed by your real name not always uppermost with you?”
“No, not now. When I first returned to England, after leaving the Austrian service, I always went about with an uneasy impression upon me,—a sort of feeling that when men looked at me they were trying to remember where and when and how they had seen that face before; but up to this none have ever discovered me, except Dell the detective officer, whom I met one night at Cremorne, and who whispered me softly, 'Happy to see you, Mr. Hunt. Have you been long in England?' I affected at first not to understand him, and, touching his hat politely, he said: 'Well, Sir,—Jos. Dell. If you remember, I was there at the inquest.' I invited him to share a bottle of wine with me at once, and we parted like old friends. By the way,” added he, “there was that old pyrotechnist of yours,—that drunken rascal,—he knew me too.”
“Well, you 're not likely to be troubled with another recognition from him, Ludlow.”
“How so? Is the fellow dead?”