“I’ve heard of Captain Swords’ connection with that affair,” said Dorothy dryly; “but I don’t always believe quite all I hear.”
“No?”
“No,” she replied, “just as people sometimes say things they don’t fully mean, I suppose. For instance,” she continued with meaning, “indelicate and careless remarks in the excitement of play at baccarat!”
“Indelicate and careless remarks—baccarat!” he repeated, with evident wonderment. “I realize I am stupid, but I don’t understand.”
She turned her great eyes upon his face and as she saw the perplexity there her heart gave a joyful leap. Long ago she had to herself fully exonerated him and had pitilessly condemned herself for having ever entertained a single doubt. Now, it seemed, the entire story of the infamous Brooke was a falsehood woven out of whole cloth. Still, with the spirit of inquisition natural to womankind, she determined to probe the entire matter to the bitter end.
“Yes; at baccarat, I said,” she answered gayly. “Weren’t you with the Tenth before you came to the Guards?”
“Yes,” he answered, wondering what was coming next.
“And the Tenth were sorry gamblers, were they not?” she persisted. “Was there not a great deal of baccarat playing toward the close of the season at Oldport?”
“I don’t know whether I ought to disclose the secrets of the mess-room,” he replied; “but I don’t mind admitting what was generally known and talked about. Your information is quite correct, I regret to say.”
“You regret?” she asked. “Why? It is rumored that Captain Mortimer was one of the most assiduous devotees.”