British Mysteries Omnibus - The Emma Orczy Edition (65+ Titles in One Edition). Emma Orczy
other, "yet 'tis passing simple. You begin with one golden guinea . . . and lose it . . . then you put up two and lose again. . . ."
"Passing simple," assented Sir Michael ironically.
"But after that you put up four guineas."
"And lose it."
"Yea! yea! mayhap you lose it . . . but then you put up eight guineas . . . and win. Whereupon you are just as you were before."
And with a somewhat unsteady hand the young man raised a bumper to his lips, whilst eying Sir Michael with the shifty and inquiring eye peculiar to the intoxicated.
"Meseems that if you but abstain from playing altogether," quoth Sir Michael impatiently, "the result would still be the same. . . . And suppose you lose the eight guineas, what then?"
"Oh! 'tis vastly simple — you put up sixteen."
"But if you lose that?"
"Put up thirty-two. . . ."
"But if you have not thirty-two guineas to put up?" urged Sir Michael, who was obstinate.
"Nay! then, my friend," said Lord Walterton with a laugh which soon broke into an ominous hiccough, "ye must not in that case play upon my system."
"Well said, my lord," here interposed Endicott, who had most moderately partaken of a cup of hypocras, and whose eye and hand were as steady as heretofore. "Well said, pardi! . . . My old friend the Marquis of Swarthmore used oft to say in the good old days of Goring's Club, that 'twas better to lose on a system, than to play on no system at all."
"A smart cavalier, old Swarthmore," assented Sir Michael gruffly, "and nathless, a true friend to you, Endicott," he added significantly.
"Another deal, Master Endicott," said Segrave, who for the last quarter of an hour had vainly tried to engage the bank-holder's attention.
Nor was Lord Walterton averse to this. The more the wine got into his head, the more unsteady his hand became, the more strong was his desire to woo the goddess whose broken-nosed image seemed to be luring him to fortune.
"You are right, Master Segrave," he said thickly, "we are wasting valuable time. Who knows but what old Noll's police-patrol is lurking in this cutthroat alley? . . . Endicott, take the bank again. . . . I'll swear I'll ruin ye ere the moon — which I do not see — disappears down the horizon. Sir Michael, try my system. . . . Overbury, art a laggard? . . . Let us laugh and be merry — to-morrow is the Jewish Sabbath — and after that Puritanic Sunday . . . after which mayhap, we'll all go to hell, driven thither by my Lord Protector. Wench, another bumper . . . canary, sack or muscadel . . . no thin Rhenish wine shall e'er defile this throat! Gentlemen, take your places. . . . Mistress Endicott, can none of these wenches discourse sweet music whilst we do homage to the goddess of Fortune? . . . To the tables . . . to the tables, gentlemen . . . here's to King Charles, whom may God protect . . . and all in defiance of my Lord Protector!"
CHAPTER XVI
A CONFLICT
In the hubbub which immediately followed Lord Walterton's tirade, Editha de Chavasse beckoned to the florid woman — who seemed to be her henchwoman — and drew her aside to a distant corner of the room, where there were no tables nigh and where the now subdued hum of the voices, mingling with the sound of music on virginal and stringed instruments, made a murmuring noise which effectually drowned the talk between the two women.
"Have you arranged everything, Mistress Endicott?" asked Editha, speaking in a whisper.
"Everything, mistress," replied the other.
"Endicott understands?"
"Perfectly," said the woman, with perceptible hesitation, "but . . ."
"What ails you, mistress?" asked Editha haughtily, noting the hesitation, and frowning with impatience thereat.
"My husband thinks the game too dangerous."
"I was not aware," retorted Mistress de Chavasse dryly, "that I had desired Master Endicott's opinion on the subject."
"Mayhap not," rejoined the other, equally dryly, "but you did desire his help in the matter . . . and he seems unmindful to give it."
"Why?"
"I have explained . . . the game is too dangerous."
"Or the payment insufficient?" sneered Editha. "Which is it?"
"Both, mayhap," assented Mistress Endicott with a careless shrug of her fat shoulders, "the risks are very great. To-night especially. . . ."
"Why especially to-night?"
"Because ever since you have been away from it, this house — though we did our best to make it seem deserted — hath been watched — of that I feel very sure. . . . My Lord Protector's watchmen have a suspicion of our . . . our evening entertainments . . . and I doubt not but that they desire to see for themselves how our guests enjoy themselves these nights."
"Well?" rejoined Editha lightly. "What of that?"
"As you know, we did not play for nigh on twelve months now. . . . Endicott thought it too dangerous . . . and to-night . . ."
She checked herself abruptly, for Editha had turned an angry face and flashing eyes upon her.
"To-night?" said Mistress de Chavasse curtly, but peremptorily, "what of to-night? . . . I sent you orders from Thanet that I wished the house opened to-night . . . Lord Walterton, Sir James Overbury and as many of our usual friends as were in the town, apprised that play would be in full progress. . . . Meseems," she added, casting a searching look all round the room, "that we have singularly few players."
"It was difficult," retorted the other with somewhat more diffidence in her tone than had characterized her speech before now. "Young Squire Delamere committed suicide . . . you remember him? . . . and Lord Cooke killed Sir Humphrey Clinton in a duel after that fracas we had here, when the police-patrol well-nigh seized upon your person. . . . Squire Delamere's suicide and Sir Humphrey's death caused much unpleasant talk. And old Mistress Delamere, the mother, hath I fear me, still a watchful eye on us. She means to do us lasting mischief. . . . It had been wiser to tarry yet awhile. . . . Twelve months is not sufficient for throwing the dust of ages over us and our doings. . . . That is my husband's opinion and also mine. . . . A scandal such as you propose to have to-night, will bring the Protector's spies about our ears . . . his police too, mayhap . . . and then Heaven help us all, mistress . . . for you, in the country, cannot conceive how rigorously are the laws enforced now against gambling, betting, swearing or any other form of innocent amusement. . . . Why! two wenches were whipped at the post by the public hangman only last week, because forsooth they were betting on the winner amongst themselves, whilst watching a bout of pell-mell. . . . And you know that John Howthill stood in the pillory for two hours and had both his hands bored through with a hot iron for allowing gambling inside his coffeehouse. . . . And so, mistress, you will perceive that I am speaking but in your own interests. . . ."
Editha, who had listened to the long tirade with marked impatience, here interrupted the voluble lady, with harsh command.
"I crave your pardon, mistress," she said peremptorily. "My interests pre-eminently consist in being obeyed by those whom I pay for doing my behests. Now you and your worthy husband live here rent free and derive a benefit of ten pounds every time our guests assemble. . . . Well! in return for that, I make use of you and your names, in case of any unpleasantness with the vigilance patrol . . . or in case of a scandal which might reach my Lord Protector's ears. . . . Up to this time your positions here have been a sinecure. . . . I even bore the brunt of the last fracas whilst you remained practically scathless. . . . But to-night, I own it, there may be some risks . . . but of a truth you have been well paid to take them."
"But if we refuse to take the risks," retorted the other.
"If you refuse, mistress,"