Silently the cards were dealt and played. It was evidently the closing game, upon which much depended—how much, for James, I could only guess by the increasing pallor and absorption of his countenance.
“I wish I could see his opponent’s face,” I whispered to my companion.
“You would see nothing but the face of the devil coolly amusing himself. Bagley never gets excited. He has ruined a dozen young men already.”
The last card was thrown down; the two players arose simultaneously.
“Well, Bagley,” said James, with a desperate laugh, “you will have to wait for the money until I—”
“Marry the young lady,” said the other; “that is the agreement, I believe; but don’t consent to a long engagement.”
“I shall find some means to pay these last two debts before that happy consummation, I hope. You shall hear from me within a month.”
“We will make a little memorandum of them,” said his opponent; and as they went together to a writing-desk, Mr. Burton drew me away.
I could hardly breathe when we got into the street, I was so suffocated with rage at hearing the reference made by those two men, under that unholy roof, to the woman so revered and sacred in my thoughts. I was certain that Miss Argyll was the young lady whose fortune was to pay these “debts of honor,” contracted in advance upon such security. If his strong hand had not silently withheld me, I do not know but I should have made a scene, which would have been as unwise as useless. I was thankful, afterward, that I was prevented, though I chafed under the restraint at the time. Neither of us spoke until we were in the house of my host, where a fire in the library awaited us. Before this we seated ourselves, neither of us feeling sleepy after our night’s adventures.
“How did you know that Argyll was at that house? I had no idea that he intended coming to the city to-day,” I said.