Was a man like that to be dismissed without inquiry? Had he not found him good-natured and gentlemanlike? What about those stories circulated among Jews and croupiers? Enemies might affect to believe them, and quote the old saw, “There is never smoke without fire;” but dare one of them utter a word of the kind aloud? Did they stand the test of five minutes' inquiry, such even as he had given them? Had he found a particle of proof, of evidence, of suspicion? Not a spark. What man had ever escaped stories who was worth forging a lie about?
Here was a man worth more than a million. Why, if he let him slip through his fingers, some duchess would pounce on him for her daughter.
It was well that Longcluse was really in love—well, perhaps, that he did not appreciate the social omnipotence of money.
“Where is Sir Reginald at present?” asked Lady May.
“Not here, you may be sure,” answered Richard. “My father does not admit my visits, you know.”
“Really! And is that miserable quarrel kept up still?”
“Only too true. He is in France at present; at Vichy—ain't it Vichy?” he said to Alice.
But she, not choosing to talk, said simply, “Yes—Vichy.”
“I'm going to take Alice into town again; she has promised to stay with me a little longer. And I think you neglect her a little, don't you? You ought to come and see her a little oftener,” pleaded Lady May, in an undertone.
“I only feared I was boring you all. Nothing, you know, would give me half so much pleasure,” he answered.