Mr. Marx's Secret Part 25

"Oh, hang Fothergill!" I cried. "He only wants to win your money. I wouldn't play with the fellow if I were you, Cecil. Can't you see he's a cad?"

He looked at me, confounded.

"Why, hang it all," he said, "how can you refuse to play with a man after you've eaten his dinner? Besides, can't you see that it isn't he who wants to play at all? It was I who proposed it and even then he wasn't keen."

"All beastly cunning!" I muttered angrily. But I could say no more, for de Cartienne and Mr. Fothergill had retraced their steps to look for us and Cecil had started off towards them.

In a few moments we reached the "Rose and Crown" and walked straight into the little parlour at the back. Miss Milly was sitting there by herself in semi-darkness, with a very disconsolate face. She brightened up, however, at our entrance.

"All by yourself, Milly?" exclaimed Cecil, letting go my arm and moving to her side. "In tears, too, I believe! No news, I suppose?"

She shook her head sadly.

"None! I have almost lost hope," she added.

Then she glanced questioningly at Mr. Fothergill, and Cecil introduced him in an informal sort of way and explained our visit.

"We've come to drink up all your wine and have a quiet game at cards instead of staying all the evening at the 'Bull.' You can put us in the sitting-room out of the way, can't you?"

"Oh, yes!" she answered eagerly. "How good of you to come here! We've been dreadfully quiet the last few days--scarcely anyone in at all, and I have been so dull. Come this way, please. I'm so glad I had the fire lit."

She led us into the little sitting-room, where we had gone to look for Mr. Hart's photograph on my first visit to the place. I pointed to the spot where it had been.

"You haven't found the portrait yet?" I remarked.

She shook her head and looked distressed.

"Please don't talk about it," she said. "It seems as though it must have been spirited away and it makes me feel uncomfortable even to think about it."

We seated ourselves around the table and Mr. Fothergill, producing two packs of cards from his pocket, began to deal. At the end of an hour Cecil had won nearly fifty pounds, I was as I had started, and de Cartienne and Mr. Fothergill were about equal losers.

"I'm getting sick of this!" I declared. "Leave me out of this deal, will you?"

They a.s.sented and I crossed the room to where Milly was sitting.

Pretending to examine the fancy-work upon which she was engaged, I bent close over her.

"Miss Milly, I want to ask you a question, without letting the others hear," I said softly. "Do you understand?"

She nodded. Her large blue eyes, upturned to mine, were filled with innocent wonder.

I glanced towards the table. As I had expected, de Cartienne was watching us, and I could see that he was straining every nerve to overhear our conversation.

"I think I'm about tired of it, too!" he exclaimed, suddenly throwing down his cards and rising; but Cecil laid his hand on his shoulder and forced him down.

"Nonsense, man! You must play out your hand, at any rate. Then you may leave off as soon as you like."

De Cartienne resumed his seat with evident reluctance. I bent over Milly again.

"Has anyone else one of those photographs of your father?" I asked. "Is there anyone from whom you could borrow one?"

She shook her head and looked towards the empty frame.

"That was the only one," she answered.

"Where did he have them taken?"

"At Lawrence's, just across the way."

"And when?"

"About nine months ago, I think it was. Why do you ask, Mr. Morton?" she added anxiously.

"I will tell you another time," I answered, in a low tone.

I glanced towards the table as I said this and was just in time to see de Cartienne bend over towards Cecil and whisper something in his ear. The latter looked round at us at once.

"You two seem to have found something interesting to talk about," he remarked, glancing towards Milly as though requiring an explanation.

"We haven't," she answered, with a sigh.

"Mr. Morton was just asking me---- Oh, Mr. Morton, you're treading on my foot!"

I withdrew my foot and tried the effect of a warning glance, but it was of no avail.

"Mr. Morton was asking me," she continued, "whether I had not another of those photographs."

"And have you--has anyone?" interrupted de Cartienne, fixing his piercing black eyes upon her.

She shook her head.

"No; but perhaps I can get some. They were taken at Lawrence's and I suppose he has the negative."

I glanced quickly at de Cartienne. He seemed profoundly uninterested and was trying to build a house of the cards he had thrown down. Either he must be a perfect actor, or my vague suspicions were very ill-founded at that moment. I could not decide which.

"Had enough cards, Cis?" he asked abruptly.

"Not I. We'll leave you out for a bit, though. Fothergill and I are going to play ecarte."

De Cartienne shrugged his shoulders and threw himself on the sofa.

"I pity you, then," he said drily. "You'll soon see the back of that little pile of winnings. Fothergill's a bit too good for you."

"Well, we shall see," Cecil answered, laughing confidently. "I'm not a bad hand at ecarte myself."

They began to play. Presently de Cartienne left the room and returned with two gla.s.ses in his hand.

"Have a lemon-squash, Morton?" he asked carelessly. "There's only a drop of whisky in it."