“At your service,” Emerson replied.
This time the face of the man standing behind Cotter's chair was immovable, and Mark, placing himself behind a short man and straining his head forward, saw that Cotter scored four. The next time there was still no sign. Emerson showed a king and scored it, and then won every trick and the game.
“That makes nine hundred pounds,” the young man said quietly, writing an IOU for that amount and handing it to Emerson. There was a general movement of the spectators, and two fresh players took the seats vacated by the late antagonists.
“Who was the man standing behind Cotter's chair?” Mark asked Boldero.
“That is Sir James Flash. He is just going to play, you see; it is sure to be another hot game, and an interesting one.”
“Well, I think I will go,” Mark said; “the heat of the room has given me a bit of a headache. I will see you tomorrow, Dick.”
“Good night, old man,” Chetwynd said; and, shaking hands with Boldero, Mark went downstairs immediately after Cotter. The latter went into the room below, drank off a tumbler of champagne, and then went down, took his hat, and went out. Mark followed him for a short distance, and joined him as soon as he got up into the Strand.
“Mr. Cotter,” he said, “I have not the pleasure of knowing you personally, and I must introduce myself. My name is Mark Thorndyke, and I am the owner of an estate close to Reigate. Would you mind my exchanging a few words with you?”
Cotter looked up, and was about to give a flat refusal, but the expression of Mark's face was so friendly and pleasant that he changed his mind and said in a hard voice:
“I really do not know what you can have to say to me, Mr. Thorndyke, but of course I can hardly refuse to hear you.”