“Was she the daughter of the Countess of Mallowe?”
“Yes. Have you heard of her?”
He recalled Ann’s reflective consideration of him before she had said, “She’ll come after you.” He replied now: “Some one spoke of her to me this morning. They say she’s a beauty and as proud as Lucifer.”
“She was, and she is yet, I believe. Poor Lady Joan—as well as poor Jem!”
“She didn’t believe it, did she?” he put in hastily. “She didn’t throw him down?”
“No one knew what happened between them afterward. She was in the card-room, looking on, when the awful thing took place.”
She stopped, as though to go on was almost unbearable. She had been so overwhelmed by the past shame of it that even after the passing of years the anguish was a living thing. Her small hands clung hard together as they rested on the edge of the table. Tembarom waited in thrilled suspense. She spoke in a whisper again:
“He won a great deal of money—a great deal. He had that uncanny luck again, and of course people in the other rooms heard what was going on, and a number drifted in to look on. The man he had promised to give his revenge to almost showed signs of having to make an effort to conceal his irritation and disappointment. Of course, as he was a gentleman, he was as cool as possible; but just at the most exciting moment, the height of the game, Jem made a quick movement, and—and something fell out of his sleeve.”
“Something,” gasped Tembarom, “fell out of his sleeve!”
Miss Alicia’s eyes overflowed as she nodded her beribboned little cap.