In another minute the butler returned with the cigars, and then departed to fulfil the other part of his orders.
“Now, Vanleigh, since we are favoured,” said Trevor, laughing, “try one of these. I know they are genuine, for I got them myself at the Havanna.”
“Really,” said Vanleigh, with a show of consideration, “I’ll give up my smoke, and I’m sure Flick will.”
“Oh, yes, dear boy; don’t mind me.”
“For goodness’ sake, gentlemen, don’t make bad worse,” said Trevor; “take your cigars and light up. Hallo, Frank! Don’t go out, man.”
“Not going,” said Pratt, who had already lit a tremendous cigar, and was puffing away as he took a chair to the window.
“Then, why have you gone there?”
“To smoke the curtains for the benefit of Mrs Lloyd,” was the reply; and he proceeded to put his intention in force.
After an hour they adjourned to Trevor’s room, where they had refreshments brought in, and were soon deep in a rubber of whist, Pratt being partner with Vanleigh, and playing his very worst; but all the same, luck and his partner’s skill carried them through, so that they won rather heavily. Time glided away, and the cigars were so good that for the first time that evening Trevor felt comfortable.
“Well,” he thought, “we shall have no more of Mrs Lloyd to-night, and to-morrow I’ll set things right. Me to lead? Good that—there’s a trump.”