“Really, dear boy, I’m almost ashamed to take it. But, there, I’m only acting as your steward. You’ll have to come to my quarters and win it all back. The wheel of fortune goes round, eh?”
“Yes,” said Lacey, laconically. “Take anything else?”
“No, really—no thanks!” said Mark. “Good-night—morning, or whatever it is. Can I let myself out?”
“The man is there,” said Lacey, coldly.
But Jerry did not remain there, to wait just outside, but made his way quickly back into the lobby, where he stood, ready to hand Mark his large Inverness cloak and hat, and then open the door.
“Looks as if he were going to be hanged,” muttered Jerry very sourly, as he stood watching the young officer descend in the grey morning light. “Wonder how much he has won, and whether it makes him feel better? I know one thing: it makes me feel a deal worse, and as if I should like to pitch him over the banisters. I ’ate that chap—that’s what’s the matter with me—and I’d tell him so to his face as soon as look at him, that I would!”
Jerry closed the door and went across the lobby, hearing the heavy pace of his master as he walked restlessly up and down the room.
“The scoundrel!” Lacey muttered. “He is a scoundrel, and I’m a fool—a pigeon, and he has plucked me. I swear he cheated. He played that very trick I was once warned about. Serve me right! But it’s the last time.”
He continued his hurried pace, growing sterner and more decisive as he walked.
“A lesson to me!” he muttered. “A dishonourable scoundrel! At Miss Deane’s, too! I swear he has been trying to oust me, and the old lady has encouraged him. Anna told me of his words to her. One can’t call a man out now; and if I spread it abroad about the cards there’ll be no end of a row, and he’d be indignant. No, I won’t speak. It’s a lesson to me for being such an easy-going fool.”