CHAPTER V
SIR FRANCIS INTERVENES
The St. James's coffee-house was nearly empty; the candles had burnt to their sockets and only a sickly lamplight revealed the three gentlemen who sat together at a table scattered with cards. They had finished playing. One who had lost rose up without a word and reached down his hat and coat from the shining wall. Rose Lyndwood, a second loser, lifted his eyes to glance at him.
A clock without struck three. A sleepy drawer was slowly clearing some of the other tables. The place, but a little while since so noisy, had an extraordinarily dreary look.
"Good-night," said Lord Sandys. He put on his hat and left the room with a firm step.
The Earl nodded. Cathcart, the winner, laughed.
"Sandys looks dashed," he remarked.
"Probably ruined," remarked my lord.
A fresh gust of air rushed in and stirred for a second the stale, smoke-laden atmosphere; then the door was closed again, and idle, heavy silence was unbroken.