"She has, and my advice is to go on as usual. It is not her fault that blacklegs have crept into her circle. They creep into the best houses, the best clubs. So long as this curséd gambling goes on, there will be sharpers."
"That's true," remarked Spencer, remembering a few episodes that had occurred in his time. "And, I suppose, you will still cast in your lot with her?"
The look on the beautiful face grew more pathetic than ever.
"What can I do, Mr. Spencer? I have told you my position. I wish my cousin were a different woman altogether, I wish she were not so infatuated with this horrible gambling. But I cannot influence her. She is too old and set to turn over a new leaf."
Every moment the girl's fascination took a deeper hold of him. She was so very beautiful, so very seductive. But he still kept himself in check.
"Tell me what actually happened last night. How were Esmond and his partner found out?"
There was a little interruption by the solemn-faced butler who brought in tea. Miss Keane busied herself amongst the cups before she replied.
"It is, as I told you, all a nightmare to me. I was wandering aimlessly about; as I have told you before, I never play, I loathe cards too much. Suddenly there was a scene at the table where Mr. Esmond and his partner were playing. Three men were standing watching the game, they had come here often, I knew their names."
"They were friends of Mrs. L'Estrange?" queried Spencer.
Just a faint shade of hesitation crept into the low voice.