"Certainly," said Elsie, rising; "you will send for me when you want me," and with a smiling, wondering look at Glynn, she left the room.
The door being closed, Lady Gethin, turning to Lambert, said, "At the risk of awakening painful memories I must ask you a few questions! Your daughter so resembles a dear friend, or rather one who was a dear friend of mine long ago, that I cannot refrain. Pray has she any relations named Acton?"
"No," said Lambert, eyeing her suspiciously; "she has no relation in the world but myself."
"She must have some others, Captain Lambert!" persisted Lady Gethin. "Strange ideas rise in my mind, coupling the likeness with Deering's efforts to find her. The friend Miss Lambert resembles, and whose daughter she might be, was Isabel Acton, who married Gilbert Deering against the will of her people, and went away with him abroad, where she died."
"My God!" cried Lambert, turning ghastly white, "this is incredible!" He remained silent for a minute, his hands clasping and unclasping the arms of his chair, his mouth twitching, some strong emotion evidently working within him. "Ring the bell!" he said at length to Glynn. "Get me some brandy-and-water. I will tell you my whole story, and I'll want something to help me through. You look like a strong, good woman, Lady Gethin. You will not turn against my girl, though her father has been a bit of a blackguard in his time."
"I will not," said Lady Gethin, stoutly.
"Do you wish me to leave you?" asked Glynn.
"No; my confession is as much for you as for my lady here." He paused while the servant placed the brandy-and-water beside him. "I must go a long way back," he resumed, when she had left the room. "It was about fifteen years ago when, after knocking about in Texas and California, I found myself at Chili in a very low condition, both as to money and prospects. Just at that time a railway had been begun by a clever adventurer who had been kicked out of 'Frisco, but persuaded the Government of Chili to take up his scheme. This railway was to a village up in the mountains, in the middle of a rich mineral district, teeming with wealth. The difficulty was to find ready money to pay current expenses; they were never more than a week ahead of the men's wages. To provide for this outlay, Jeafferson, the Yankee promoter, got together three or four gamblers to meet the men at the village where they were paid, and win back the cash just given out, and have it ready by the next pay-day. I was one of these fine gentlemen," bitterly. "We had a percentage on our winnings, and lots of food and drink at the bars, kept by the company,—that is, Jeafferson. It is curious how little I minded it all then, and what a rascally business it seems now! Among the employés there was a certain Deering, a cold, stern Englishman, an engineer. He was a silent, self-possessed fellow, proud and plucky as the devil. We all hated him, for he looked down on us. He seemed to see through the gambling scheme; he was always interfering, and warning the men against us, and making enemies on both sides. He had had a wife with him, but she was dead. I never saw her." He paused. Both Lady Gethin and Glynn drew a little nearer with breathless interest.
"Well," resumed Lambert, "one night I met Deering in a hotel in Lima with a tall Englishman not unlike himself, only fair, with whom he was talking over a bottle of wine; and they had papers and money lying on the table between them. They seemed greatly occupied with their conversation. I had had a hard ride, and a hard drink (I did drink then), and I couldn't resist trying to get up a quarrel with Deering, so I broke in on him and his friend and offered to stake as much as lay there and play him for the whole at poker, euchre, anything he liked. He answered me contemptuously, and rising, left the room. I was in an awful fury, and swore that I'd have his life, and a deal more. The tall friend who remained laughed and taunted me, and gave me more drink, so we grew a bit familiar. The upshot was, I went to see him in his private room; there we got abusing Deering to dirt, and I swore I'd have his life. When this man had listened awhile, says he: 'If you are in earnest, I know a party as would give a bigger pile than that' (meaning the money that had been on the table) 'to know that he was safe under the sod, and not only the serpent but the spawn to; for,' says he, 'he has a child, who may prove worse than the father.' This sobered me. Ay, you may look hard; it had an ugly sound, and blackguard as I had been, I was no cowardly assassin." He stopped, and signed to Glynn to give him some brandy-and-water.
"I parleyed with him a bit. However, I could get little out of him, except that there was a good sum to be mine if I would shoot my enemy. Well, I kept quiet. I felt somehow desperately disgusted, and all my fury against Deering began to die away. I said to my new acquaintance, that he should hear from me, and next day I mounted my horse, and rode away to find Deering; not to challenge and shoot him, but to warn him against the treacherous devil that was thirsting for his life. It's truth I'm telling you. Do you believe me?" interrupting himself feverishly.