He did not offer his hand, for he felt certain it would not be taken. Spencer stopped him as he was at the door.
"You have money, I suppose, something put by out of your—your winnings?"
Esmond's voice was hesitating. Again it was very doubtful if he was speaking the truth. "Hardly a sou out of them. It was lightly come, lightly go, all the time. But my father left me a little bit which will keep me going in a cheap place."
Spencer did not believe him. The probability was he had put away safely a snug little nest-egg, in view of the detection which might come at any moment of such a hazardous occupation.
"One word before you go," said the young man finally. "Is there much cheating going on at Elsinore Gardens?"
Esmond turned and looked the speaker straight in the face. This time he certainly seemed to be speaking the truth, but he might be a most accomplished liar.
"None at all, except when I and my partner were there. If there had been, I should have spotted it. I'm awfully sorry for Mrs. L'Estrange, for it having happened at her house, for I daresay people will hint nasty things."
"She didn't suspect anything, then?"
"Not a bit," replied Esmond. "We didn't play there more than about twice a week, and we never went in for high stakes. And, of course, we had to lose pretty often, to make things look square."
"And Miss Keane suspected nothing either." As he remembered the girl's beautiful face, and sad history, Spencer felt almost ashamed of himself for putting the question.