Byways to Evil. Lloyd Biggle, jr.
and won, and won. Remarkable.”
“Did your friend lose, too?”
“He did. He also lost the night before. That’s why he went back. Thought his luck had to turn.”
“But it didn’t,” Lady Sara said thoughtfully. “Were you planning to have another go at it tonight to see if your luck would turn?”
“At first, I was. But I told Lady Woolston what happened, and she threw a fit. Insisted I tell you about it.”
“There are several possibilities,” Lady Sara said. “One is that you really had a run of bad luck, but such runs rarely last an entire evening—or, in the case of your friend, two entire evenings. Another is that your own inept play was responsible, but I have played cards with you, and I doubt that.”
“Never considered myself an expert,” Lord Woolston said, “but I usually hold my own.”
“So the third possibility is the more likely one. You were cheated. The methods of cheating at cards are legion. The cards could have been marked, or the sharper could have marked them himself in the course of play. In addition, several varieties of sleight-of-hand or manipulation are possible in baccarat. A reflector—there are numerous kinds—could have enabled the sharper to identify every card as it was dealt. A holdout could have been used. There are many types, and all are devices to conceal one or more cards until it or they can be played advantageously. In connection with this, extra cards are sometimes smuggled into the game. How many players were there?”
“There were five of us.”
“Then the sharper could have had one or two collaborators, which introduces other possibilities for cheating. However it was managed, you were cheated outrageously. The question is—what can be done about it?”
Lord Woolston harrumphed. “Don’t want any fuss, you know. No publicity.”
Lady Sara smiled. “Believe me—neither does the man who cheated you. On the other hand, if nothing is done to stop him, he’ll go right on cheating. This is what I suggest. Go back there tonight and play again. Take two ‘friends’ with you. One of them will be my footman, Charles Tupper. He can spot a sharper across the room and give him back more than he bargains for. The other will be a police officer who is just as good. You’ll get your five thousand pounds back. You’ll also give the sharper a good scare. An official record will be made so the police can keep an eye on him from now on.”
“All right,” Lord Woolston said. “I’ll do it.”
“You can call here after dinner for Charles and the police officer—would nine o’clock do? Along the way, you can give them the information they will need, and they can give you your instructions. Done?”
“Done,” Lord Woolston agreed.
I ushered him out, and Blanche Dillion took his place in the library. She looked at me timidly. Then she turned to Lady Sara. “Does he have to be here?”
“He is my assistant,” Lady Sara said kindly. “We will probably need his help, so it is important that he know what your problem is. He will do his best for you just as I will.”
The young woman sat in silence for a moment. Then she burst into tears. “He said he loved me,” she said.
“Let me guess,” Lady Sara said. “You gave him your jewellery.”
“How did you know?”
“Because you aren’t wearing any of it.”
“He said he needed money to pay some debts so we could get married.”
“And your father didn’t like him?”
She shook her head tearfully.
“Have you seen him or heard from him since you gave him your jewellery?”
She shook her head again.
“Describe him as best you can.”
She did so and also gave us the Bloomsbury address where he had claimed to be living. One of her father’s grooms—his daughter had been her nurse, and she felt able to trust him—had made enquiries there after the man stopped seeing her. The landlady claimed the man wasn’t known at that address.
She had met him at Lord’s at the Oxford-Cambridge cricket match. She had thought he was with some friends of hers. Later, when her father enquired, the friends denied any knowledge of him. Her father considered him an interloper looking for a girl to pick up, which was one reason he had taken such a violent dislike to him.
The man told her his name was Kingsley Lyman. He seemed very pleasant. He did nothing at all improper, then or later. When she introduced him to her parents, they said he was no gentleman, but he had been to Oxford—
“Or so he said,” Lady Sara observed. “I know the rest of the story. You kept meeting him, and you fell in love. Finally he asked you to marry him as soon as he was able to pay his debts, so you gave him your jewellery.”
She nodded. Sobs shook her body.
“All right. I know all about this man. He has been involved in shady business before—a lot of shady business. Sit down at the desk and make a complete list of every item of jewellery you gave him. Describe it as carefully as you can and don’t leave anything out. It may be possible to recover some or even most of it.”
Once Blanche Dillion had accepted my presence, she paid no further attention to me. During her sad tale of deception, she did not send a glance in my direction. Her attitude was not uncommon among Lady Sara’s titled friends. A girl like Blanche could fall madly in love with a crook pretending to be a gentlemen, but she was unlikely to make this kind of mistake about Lady Sara’s secretary and assistant, however upright and presentable he might be. Only too obviously, he was no gentleman—he worked for a living.
At one time Lady Sara had been concerned that I might fall in love with one of these young women from titled families. That could have been devastating for me; like Blanche Dillion, all of them accepted my presence without really being aware of my existence.
But Lady Sara need not have worried. After my association with her, they and their fluttery lives that revolved so exclusively around their social concerns seemed shallow and frivolous, not to mention downright silly.
While Blanche was making her list, we returned to the drawing room for a talk with Lady Cowlan.
“So sorry to bother you, Sara, dear,” Lady Cowlan said gushingly when the maid had poured more coffee for her. “My brooch is missing—the gold one with diamonds. It was my mother’s, you know, and her mother’s, and her mother’s, and I don’t know how far back it goes, it’s a family heirloom. I’m afraid it’s been stolen, and I had so counted on giving it to Melantha.”
“When did you first miss it?”
“Oh, days and days ago. I don’t often wear it, and at first I thought I had mislaid it. I often do. But now I’ve searched and searched, and the servants have searched and searched, and it isn’t anywhere. I just realized yesterday that it must have been stolen.”
“Do you suspect anyone?”
“Goodness, no! If I suspected anyone, I would have got rid of them. I wouldn’t have a servant in the house who stole things.”
“Would you describe it for Colin?”
“Well it’s an oval, about—” She waveringly held up two fingers. “—this big.” She could have been indicating three inches or six. “It’s gold, of course, with little diamonds around the edge and a big one in the centre.”
“Very well, dear,” Lady Sara said. “You finish your coffee, and then I’ll send Colin home with you. The first thing is to make a really thorough search. When he has done that, he can talk with your servants.”
She turned to me. “Oh! Would you?”
“I