If his game was not yet up, the cards left in his hand were poor. More than ever did they require skilful playing.
What should be his next move?
It was about this his brain was busy, as he sat pulling away at his pipe.
“Any one called since I’ve been gone?” he asked of his wife without turning toward her.
Had he done so, he might have observed a slight start caused by the inquiry. She answered, hesitatingly:
“Oh! no—yes—now I think of it I had a visitor—one.”
“Who?”
“Sir Robert Cottrell. You remember our meeting him at Brighton?”
“Of course I remember it. Not likely to forget the name of the puppy. How came he to call?”
“He expected to see you.”