"Oh yes, friends of my cousin."
"Straight sort of chaps, of course."
"I have no doubt of that. They accused Mr. Esmond and his partner, Major Golightly, of cheating. Of course the charge was denied, but very half-heartedly. These three men were backed by others who had seen something suspicious. It seems Mr. Esmond and his partner had aroused suspicion before. Finally they confessed, and slunk out of the house."
She paused a moment, and then laid her hand impulsively on his arm.
"That first night you came to our house, you lost. Did you play at the same table with Tommy Esmond? I forget."
The answer came straight. "No, I lost something, what was it?—something about a hundred and fifty. But Tommy Esmond did not rook me that time, he was playing at another table. I remember he was very cock-a-hoop, he was winning hand over fist. I say, I know I am putting a very impertinent question, but were Tommy Esmond and his partner, this Major Golightly, the only sharpers who came to this flat? Did I lose my hundred and fifty, or whatever it was, quite honestly?"
Miss Keane covered her face with her hands for a few seconds, and when she took them away, he could see that tears were slowly trickling down her cheeks.
"Heaven knows, Mr. Spencer, I don't. My cousin is a strange woman. She is fond of gaiety, of excitement. She asks people about whom she knows nothing to her flat, I think," she added with an hysterical laugh; "she fancies she is making herself a queen of Society. If she can get her rooms full that is all she wants. When she does that, she fancies herself the Duchess."
"I think I understand," said Spencer gravely. "And I take it you would give heaven and earth to get out of this environment?"
"If you only knew how I loathe it," she cried, in a fervent tone. "Sometimes I think I would rather run away and be a shopgirl or a waitress, to get rid of this horrible atmosphere."