Then he thought of Richard’s disappearance, and of how glad Mark would be when he found that his cousin had gone, unless Dick had gone up to town to consult with some lawyer, who might perhaps put him in the way of regaining his rights.
“How could he have been such a young donkey to do as he did?” muttered Jerry; and then, feeling exceedingly drowsy, he refreshed himself with a cup of strong coffee to make him wakeful.
After about another hour he took in some of the hot coffee, and saw that the last new pack of cards had been opened and the wrapper tossed upon the floor; while the players looked hollow-cheeked and pale, too intent upon their game to care for the refreshment, and impatiently bidding him be off.
“It’s a bad complaint that men ketches—that gambling,” said Jerry; “and when they’ve got it, they gives it to others, who have it worse. I’ve no call to talk, for I’ve been bad enough. How precious white and seedy young Mark looks! Anyone would think he had been up to some game of his own. Every time I opened the door he give quite a jump in his chair, and, though he laughed it off, he’s as nervous as nerves. Wants to win, I s’pose.”
Jerry had a good long walk up and down the lobby—that is to say, he walked up and down for a long time—and, feeling that he must rest himself for a while, he slowly subsided into a chair, let his head sink back, turned it sideways so as to arrange it comfortably, and then he opened his eyes directly after—as it seemed to him—to find it was daylight. The candles had burned down very low, and two of his master’s guests were standing at his side.
“Let us out, my lad,” said the elder of the two; and as soon as he had handed them their hats and coats, and closed the door, he gave his eyes a rub.
“I wonder where S’Richard is?” he thought. “Why, I must have been asleep a good two hours. Has young Mark gone?”
He went softly through the outer room, to find the door of the inner one just ajar, and there, at a table, he could see his master writing.
“Young Mark must have let himself out,” muttered Jerry. But he altered his opinion directly, for Lacey turned the paper he had written, folded it, and held it up to someone on the other side of the table and invisible from where the man stood.
“There you are!” said Lacey.