“Sovereigns,” said Trelawney, gaily.
The temptation was irresistible.
“Done!” said the Baron. With a professional disregard for conventions he bolted the white into the middle pocket, leaving his own ball nicely beside the red. Down in its turn went the red, and Mr Bunker was on the spot. Three followed three in monotonous succession, Trelawney’s face growing longer and Dr Escott getting more and more excited, till with a smile Mr Bunker laid down his cue, a sensational winner.
His victory was received in silence: Trelawney handed over two five-pound notes without a word, and the colonel returned to his whisky-and-soda. Dr Escott could contain himself no longer, and whispering something to Sir Richard, the two left the room.
Imperturbable as ever, Mr Bunker talked gaily for a [pg 168] few minutes to an unresponsive audience, and then, remarking that he would join the ladies, left the room.
A minute or two later Sir Richard, with an anxious face, returned with Dr Escott.
“Where is the Baron?” he asked.
“Gone to join the ladies,” replied Trelawney, adding under his breath, “d—— n him!”
But the Baron was not with the ladies, nor, search the house as they might, was there a trace to be seen of that accomplished nobleman.
“He has gone!” said Sir Richard.