“Indeed?” said Strong.
“Yes, from the age of fifteen, when I ran away from home, and went cabin-boy on board an Indiaman, till now, when I’m fifty year old, pretty nigh, them women have always been my ruin. Why, it was one of ’em, and with such black eyes and jewels on her neck, and Battens and ermine like a duchess, I tell you—it was one of ’em at Paris that swept off the best part of the thousand pound as I went off with. Didn’t I ever tell you of it? Well, I don’t mind. At first I was very cautious and having such a lot of money kept it close and lived like a gentleman—Colonel Altamont, Meurice’s hotel, and that sort of thing—never played, except at the public tables, and won more than I lost. Well, sir, there was a chap that I saw at the hotel and the Palace Royal too, a regular swell fellow, with white kid gloves and a tuft to his chin, Bloundell-Bloundell his name was, as I made acquaintance with somehow, and he asked me to dinner, and took me to Madame the Countess de Foljambe’s soirees—such a woman, Strong!—such an eye! such a hand at the pianner. Lor bless you, she’d sit down and sing to you, and gaze at you, until she warbled your soul out of your body a’most. She asked me to go to her evening parties every Toosday; and didn’t I take opera-boxes and give her dinners at the restauranteur’s, that’s all? But I had a run of luck at the tables, and it was not in the dinners and opera-boxes that poor Clavering’s money went. No, be hanged to it, it was swept off in another way. One night, at the Countess’s, there was several of us at supper—Mr. Bloundell-Bloundell, the Honourable Deuceace, the Marky de la Tour de Force—all tip-top nobs, sir, and the height of fashion, when we had supper, and champagne you may be sure in plenty, and then some of that confounded brandy. I would have it—I would go on at it—the Countess mixed the tumblers of punch for me, and we had cards as well as grog after supper, and I played and drank until I don’t know what I did. I was like I was last night. I was taken away and put to bed somehow, and never woke until the next day, to a roaring headache, and to see my servant, who said the Honourable Deuceace wanted to see me, and was waiting in the sitting-room. ‘How are you, Colonel?’ says he, a coming into my bedroom. ‘How long did you stay last night after I went away? The play was getting too high for me, and I’d lost enough to you for one night.’”
“‘To me,’ says I, ‘how’s that, my dear feller? (for though he was an Earl’s son, we was as familiar as you and me). How’s that, my dear feller?’ says I, and he tells me, that he had borrowed thirty louis of me at vingt-et-un, that he gave me an I.O.U. for it the night before, which I put into my pocket-book before he left the room. I takes out my card-case—it was the Countess as worked it for me—and there was the I.O.U. sure enough, and he paid me thirty louis in gold down upon the table at my bedside. So I said he was a gentleman, and asked him if he would like to take anything, when my servant should get it for him; but the Honourable Deuceace don’t drink of a morning, and he went away to some business which he said he had.
“Presently there’s another ring at my outer door; and this time it’s Bloundell-Bloundell and the Marky that comes in. ‘Bong jour, Marky,’ says I. ‘Good morning—no headache?’ says he. So I said I had one; and how I must have been uncommon queer the night afore; but they both declared I didn’t show no signs of having had too much, but took my liquor as grave as a judge.
“‘So,’ says the Marky, ‘Deuceace has been with you; we met him in the Palais Royal as we were coming from breakfast. Has he settled with you? Get it while you can: he’s a slippery card; and as he won three ponies of Bloundell, I recommend you to get your money while he has some.’
“‘He has paid me,’ says I; ‘but I knew no more than the dead that he owed me anything, and don’t remember a bit about lending him thirty louis.’
“The Marky and Bloundell looks and smiles at each other at this; and Bloundell says, ‘Colonel, you are a queer feller. No man could have supposed, from your manners, that you had tasted anything stronger than tea all night, and yet you forget things in the morning. Come, come,—tell that to the marines, my friend,—we won’t have it at any price.’
“‘En efet,’ says the Marky, twiddling his little black mustachios in the chimney-glass, and making a lunge or two as he used to do at the fencing-school. (He was a wonder at the fencing-school, and I’ve seen him knock down the image fourteen times running, at Lepage’s.) ‘Let us speak of affairs. Colonel, you understand that affairs of honour are best settled at once: perhaps it won’t be inconvenient to you to arrange our little matters of last night.’
“‘What little matters?’ says I. ‘Do you owe me any money, Marky?’
“‘Bah!’ says he; ‘do not let us have any more jesting. I have your note of hand for three hundred and forty louis. La voia!’ says he, taking out a paper from his pocket-book.