“I don't think I 'd ask him about it, that's all,” said the Major, slyly, and moved away.
“I got amongst a capital lot of young fellows at my end of the table—second battalion men, I think,—who were all new to me, but very agreeable,” said Sewell to Cave, as he sipped his coffee.
“You'd like your rubber, Sewell, I know,” said Cave; “let us see if we haven't got some good players.”
“Not to-night,—thanks,—I promised my wife to be home early; one of the chicks is poorly.”
“I want so much to have a game with Colonel Sewell,” said a young fellow. “They told me up at Delhi that you hadn't your equal at whist or billiards.”
Sewell's pale face grew flushed; but though he smiled and bowed, it was not difficult to see that his manner evinced more irritation than pleasure.
“I say,” said another, who sat shuffling the cards by himself at a table, “who knows that trick about the double ace in picquet? That was the way Beresford was rooked at Madras.”
“I must say good-night,” said Sewell; “it's a long drive to the Nest You 'll come over to breakfast some morning before you leave, won't you?”
“I 'll do my best. At all events, I 'll pay my respects to Mrs. Sewell;” and with a good deal of hand-shaking and some cordial speeches Sewell took his leave and retired.
Had any one marked the pace at which Sewell drove home that night, black and dark as it was, he would have said, “There goes one on some errand of life or death.” There was something of recklessness in the way he pushed his strong-boned thoroughbred, urging him up hill and down without check or relief, nor slackening rein till he drew up at his own door, the panting beast making the buggy tremble with the violent action of his respiration. Low muttering to himself, the groom led the beast to the stable, and Sewell passed up the stairs to the small drawing-room where his wife usually sat.