"Something, surely," said the lady, "must have happened. Why are the tables deserted? Such a thing has never occurred before. Colonel, will you kindly find out what it means? I have the vapours to-night, I think. My mind misgives me."
Colonel Lanyon rose and walked to the door. He looked up and down the long room and returned. "Nothing has happened," he said. "They are all strangers to me. But since there is no more play I will e'en betake me to the tavern."
"And I," said the lady, "will go home. Sir Harry, please call my fellows."
Sir Harry led her through the long room to the door. As she got into the chair, she said, "Sir Harry, there is something brewing. I caught looks of hostility as we passed through the room. Do you think it is the jealousy of the women about that girl with the diamonds?"
"I observed no hostile looks."
"Men never see such things. I tell you I not only saw them, but I felt them. We have given these people mortal offence. They are gentlefolk. We come among them, and we admit to our society a girl who has no pretence to gentility. Lord Fylingdale dances with her; I take her to the assembly. Lord Fylingdale actually follows her when she is carried off and fights for her and rescues her. This is a thing which he might do for any of those ladies, and with no more than the customary jealousies; but with such a girl it makes bad blood."
"Hostile looks mean nothing. What if there is bad blood?"
"Sir Harry—Sir Harry—it is only in London, and not always there, that we account ourselves free from revenge. It is a revengeful world, and there are many people in it who would willingly put you and me and the colonel, not to speak of the parson and the earl himself, in pillory, and pelt us with rotten eggs and dead cats."
So she got into her chair, and the old beau, shaking his head, called his own chair and was carried home.
But Colonel Lanyon who walked to the tavern where his friends met every night found the place, to his astonishment, empty. Then he, too, remembered certain signs of hostility or resentment, notably the desertion of the players, and the cold looks as he left the place. Now, as the worthy adventurer and sharper was by no means conscious of innocence, he began to feel uneasy. To such men as those who live by their wits there is always the danger that some past scandal may be revived, some former half forgotten villainy remembered.