“By all means, my lad,” returned the gold-finder simply, “although I don't know what they are; and so as you take me with you, I don't care.”
Three weeks ago, such a proposition would have, staggered the captain, or rather, he would have rejected it point-blank. To be seen in public with his uncouth and flashily-attired friend, was at that time a considerable trial to the fastidious light dragoon; but the immense interest which they had in common, had rendered the familiarity of the once odious Orson at first tolerable, and eventually welcome, and even necessary. He had taken him with him into quite exclusive circles, and, except on one occasion at the Rag, where Derrick, having drunk more champagne than was good for him, had offered to fight Major Pompus of the Fusiliers for what he liked, nothing unpleasant had taken place in consequence. Men observed: “What a deuced rum fellow Lisgard brought with him the other night;” but the said stranger had lost his money very good-naturedly at the whist-table, and it was understood that he had more to lose.
Under such circumstances, the gentlemen-players were very charitable. Mr Ralph Derrick did not play a first-rate game at whist; very few persons who have not been brought up in good society do; but his performance was not so inferior as to make success impossible for a night or two, however certain the ruin that would have overtaken him in the long-run. Moreover, he was never “put off his head” by the largeness of the stake, his habitual lavishness in money-matters rendering him indifferent to that matter. Captain Lisgard, on the other hand, though an excellent player, considering his tender years, was liable to have his nerves disorganised at any crisis of a rubber upon which an unusual amount depended.
“Yes,” repeated Master Walter, “I'll try my luck at the Landrails, and you shall come, too, Ralph. Any member has a right to introduce whom he likes.”
“Even a miner from Cariboo—eh, Master Walter, provided he's got money in his pocket? Well, I'm their man, whether it's for whist or all-fours.”
“All-fours!” repeated the captain with irritation. “Who ever heard of a gentleman playing at that game? Do, pray, be particular in what you say to-night. Whatever you do, call a knave a knave, and not a Jack. The Landrails is a very select place, Ralph, where men who like to play their whist more quietly than at the Rag look in for an hour or two rather late.”
“Heavier stakes, I suppose?” observed Derrick bluntly.
“Yes, rather. You see, there's always some row with the committee, if play gets beyond a certain height at the regular clubs. Now, this is a sort of friendly circle where the points are quite optional, and the bets too. Yes, I think I shall try my luck for a pony or two.”
“I don't think you look quite fit for whist, my lad, to-night,” returned Derrick, gazing gravely into the young man's haggard face. “To-morrow will be a trying day, remember; I think you had much better get to bed.”
“I couldn't do it, man!” replied Walter vehemently—“I dare not. I should never sleep a wink, and perhaps go mad with thinking before the morning. Look here, how my hand trembles. I have not nerves of iron, like you.”