"Quite true. I did not till to-day have the pleasure of knowing Lieutenant Kingsland. I saw him leaving the room at the club, however, and though he was a stranger, ventured, as I was unable to leave my party, to ask him to do me the favour to post a letter for me, handing him two-pence for the stamp. I had, it seems, very carelessly forgotten to address it."
"Yes," broke in the Lieutenant, catching his breath. "You remember I told you I didn't know who had given it to me."
"You will notice," continued Mr. Riddle, "that the envelope is sealed with the initials A. R. inclosed in scroll work. Here"—detaching it from his watch chain—"is the seal with which the impression was made."
A cursory glance assured Stanley that it was the same.
"If you doubt my statement," continued Mr. Riddle affably, "we can procure some wax and make a duplicate——"
The Secretary hastened to disclaim any such intention. Why should he doubt this gentleman's word? Kingsland corroborated his story, and the letter was no concern of his, anyway. Indeed, as he said, in handing it over to its owner, he felt that he owed him an apology for his unwarrantable interference in the matter.
At this point Miss Fitzgerald resumed the conversation.
"There!" she cried. "You and your stupid letter have lost me the deal, for I don't know where I left off. Take the cards and deal for me— I'll run downstairs and get a clean sheet of paper, and come in on the next hand," and suiting the action to the word, she pushed the pack over to Stanley, and ran from the room.
A moment later the game was in progress. Mr. Riddle was the life and soul of the party, and his irresistible mirth and good humour put every one at his ease.
The impoverished, it is perhaps needless to say, were duly remunerated; and the Secretary, after a round of whiskies and sodas, retired to his room, feeling that the evening had been a triumphant success, and reflecting ruefully that he was yet very young, for a little brief authority had made him suspicious of everybody. Had he not put down Mr. Riddle as a hypocrite, when that gentleman was one of the most open, whole-hearted and mirthful personages in existence? As for the letter it was an unfortunate incident, very successfully brought to a close. Something was wrong with Belle, however. She had left him with a shrug and laugh, saying: "Oh, there is no real gambling in a mere game of cards. Try life!"