Afterwards Bramham mused thus to himself:
"He was lying! He must have been—or else she was. What the deuce is one to make of it? Plenty of water under the bridge since then! I daresay!... Capron's stray shaft went home.... I wonder if there's any truth in that tale!... Well! the longer I live the more I am inclined to agree with that fellow who said there never yet was a game in history or anywhere else played square with a woman in it!"
CHAPTER XXI
THE next morning, by a strange circumstance, which did not immediately unfold its inner meaning, three bad men met in the front verandah of the Royal.
The order of their coming was thus: Bramham dropped in at about eleven o'clock to discover Abinger sitting in the verandah with a drink at his elbow—
"And a smile on the face of the tiger."
That, at least, was the line from the poets which flashed into Bramham's head, as Abinger grinned upon him.
"What do you want?" was the latter's affable greeting, and Bramham answered fearlessly:
"Oh, just a gin-and-bitters! It's getting somewhere about lunch-time, isn't it?"