“Ah, yes!” said Rule. “The arrival of Crosby.”
Lethbridge had shut his eyes, but he opened them again at that. “Is that all you know? I suppose Crosby did not tell you that he found Winwood and Pommeroy with me?”
“He did not,” said Rule. “Perhaps he thought it irrelevant, or perhaps—who knows?—he considered it might spoil the effect of his story. I am sorry if it fatigues you, but I fear I must request you to tell me a little more. What, for instance, brought Winwood to your house?”
“Oh, the intelligence that I had been slain—with a poker.”
Rule drew a breath. “You dismay me,” he said. “I hardly dare to ask—what then?”
“Be at ease. He took my recovery in good part. You may pour me some more brandy. Yes, in quite good part. He even offered me a game of piquet.”
“Ah,” said Rule. “Now I begin to understand. Is it too much to hope that Pommeroy was in the same condition?”
“I did not descry much difference. They were both induced to take their leave on the discovery that I was not—as they had apparently thought—giving a card-party.” He took his replenished glass and drained it. “My relief was only equalled by Crosby’s. Crosby then pocketed the brooch. This morning I sustained a second visit from Pommeroy. He came to get it back. The humour of that should appeal to you. I had not known till then of the brooch’s existence. The rest I imagine you know. If Crosby had not been fool enough to carry his tale to you—there would be a hand still to play.” He put his empty glass down and drew the brooch from the pocket of his breeches. “Take it. It is not worth while. Don’t cheat yourself with the notion that you behold me repentant. Revenge—your wife called it fustian. I don’t know. But had we met—thus’—he nodded to where his sword lay—“years ago—who shall say?”” He moved, trying to ease his shoulder; he was frowning. “Experience—leads me to admit—you may have been right to stop Louisa marrying me. I have none of the husbandly virtues. Is she happy with her country squire? I am sure she is; at best women are—dull creatures.” His face contracted with pain. He said irritably: “Wipe my sword and sheath it. I shall use it again, believe me.” He watched Rule in silence for a moment, and as the sword slid back into the scabbard, he sighed. “Do you remember fencing with me at Angelo’s?”
“I remember,” Rule answered, half smiling. “We were always very even-matched.”
“You have improved. Where’s that damned leech? I’ve not the slightest desire to oblige you by dying.”