on the StockExchange or in gambling. If the flat was run on the crook, and it iseven betting it was, I should say the proprietors--or the syndicate,call it what you like--were contented with quite small profits. Idaresay a couple of thousand a year would keep Mrs L'Estrange inluxury, and I suppose she must have had a bit of money of her own."
"And, assuming that they were all in league, Tommy Esmond and otherswould want their bit," suggested Hugh.
"Certainly," assented Fairfax; "but always granting that the show wasrun on the crook, it wouldn't be difficult to romp in thirty or fortypounds a night, with even the small players and the occasional mugs whowere well-lined. Quite a decent amount to divide at the end of theweek."
"Well, I am awfully obliged for all you have told me, Fairfax."
"But it doesn't help you much, eh?" queried the elder man, who detecteda certain note of disappointment in his companion's tone.
"Well, candidly, it doesn't, but of course, that is no fault of yours.We may dismiss the L'Estrange business, there is no evidence there. Shemight have signalled to her confederates or not. It might have been aperfectly innocent action. She didn't play herself, she just hoveredround the tables to kill the time."
"Of course, either theory will fit," remarked the shrewd man of theworld, who had picked up so much knowledge of life in his forty-fivestrenuous years.
He paused for a few moments before he spoke again.
"Now look here, Murchison, I can read you like a book. I haven't toldyou very much more than you know yourself, or could have piecedtogether. You are disappointed because I couldn't tell you anything ofher history prior to her appearance in the L'Estrange household. Well,there, I am at fault. And you have a particular reason for wanting toknow. In other words, you have some suspicions of your own."
Hugh felt he must be cautious. In connecting Mrs Spencer with NorahBurton he might be on the wrong track altogether, have been deceived bya striking, but purely accidental, resemblance. He could not be toofrank with a man of Fairfax's temperament. Rumour had it that he wouldalways respect a confidence, but his general reputation was that of achatterbox. He spoke guardedly.
"Yes, certain undefined ones, quite undefined, please understand that."Then, speaking a little more frankly, "What I dearly want to know is,was she a straight woman before she charmed my friend Guy Spencer intomarrying her."
Fairfax smiled his slow, wise smile: "I am glad you have put your cardson the table. Of course I guessed from the beginning that it was whatyou were after. Well, I shan't breathe a word of this to anybody; I canhold my tongue when I have a mind. You have a deep interest in thematter for the sake of the Southleigh family, eh?"
Hugh had to admit that it was so.
"Well, I am going to tell you something that, up to the present, I havenot told to anybody else, and, to tell you the truth, I was not in theleast interested in Guy Spencer's marriage. If he chose to marry a girlwithout a past, that was his affair. But I see you are keen."
"Yes, I am very keen."
"Good! Well, I will give you a little information, from which you candraw your own inferences. They are as open to you as to me, and I shalljust state the bare facts. As you know, Esmond had to bolt to theContinent. On a certain morning I came up from the country by an earlytrain, landing at Charing Cross. I went to the bookstall to buy a fewpapers. I must tell you that I am one of those persons who have eyes atthe back of their head, and see everything going on around them."
Yes, Hugh knew that Fairfax had a wonderful gift of observation, inaddition to his many other gifts.
"As I turned away, I saw Esmond slink into the station, glancingfurtively from right to left, as fearful of being seen. Of course, Ihad not heard the news, and I was not present at the _debacle_, but Iguessed something was up from his furtive appearance. As he slunkalong, a young woman heavily-veiled walked swiftly forward, and laid herhand upon his arm. They were only together for a few seconds, Esmondwas evidently urging her to leave him for fear of recognition. Whenthey parted, she kissed him affectionately. In spite of the heavyveiling, I recognised her."
"Stella Keane, of course," cried Hugh.
"Stella Keane. Fortunately, neither of them saw me, I expect they wereboth too agitated. Well, there is the fact; as I said just now, you candraw your own inferences, and perhaps answer the question whether shewas a good woman before she married your friend."
"It is answered," said Hugh sternly. "A good woman would not trouble togo to the station to say good-bye to a derelict card-sharper, and kisshim affectionately, unless there had been some close and dishonourablerelationship between them."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
Murchison arrived at Eaton Place about twenty minutes before the dinnerhour. His expectation was that he would find Mrs Spencer alone in thedrawing-room, and in this hope he was not disappointed.
Stella, beautifully gowned, was seated in a luxurious easy-chair,reading. As he was announced, she rose and threw her novel down. Sheadvanced to him with outstretched hand and that ever-charming smile.
"Oh, how sweet of you to come in good time, not rush in just a momentbefore dinner is served. We can have a comfortable chat before Guycomes. He takes an awful time to dress, you know. His ties bother himreally; he discards about half a dozen before he gets the proper bow.Isn't it silly?"
She was very girlish to-night, quite different from what she had been atthe Southleigh party, staid, demure, a little resentful, and averse fromconversation.
Murchison's thoughts flew back to that day at Blankfield when he had meta certain girl by chance at the tea-shop. Norah Burton had been just asgirlish then as Mrs Spencer was now, allowing for the six years'interval.
She crossed over to a Chesterfield, and motioned him to a seat besideher. Hugh obeyed her invitation, but he felt sure that she had donethis with a motive. She was about to exercise her subtle fascination onher husband's friend.
"Now, please tell me all about yourself," she said. "You are Guy'sfriend, and I have a right to know. His friends are mine. I know whatyou have done in the War: you have suffered very terribly. But beforethat; please enlighten me."
It was a challenge. Did she desire to know as much of his past as hedesired to know of hers? He looked at her very steadily.
"You know, Mrs Spencer, it is a little difficult to go back to anythingbefore those awful years of war. But I remember, as in a sort of dream,that, quite as a young man, I was gazetted to the Twenty-fifth Lancers."
"A crack regiment, was it not?" queried Mrs Spencer. "My dear fatherwas in the Twenty-fourth."
She was keeping it up bravely, he thought. He remembered Fairfax'sstory. The woman who had said good-bye to a fugitive card-sharper atCharing Cross Station, and kissed him affectionately, was hardly likelyto be the daughter of an officer in the Twenty-fourth Lancers. He wasnot sure of very much, but of this one incident he was absolutelypositive: Fairfax was a man who was always certain of his facts.
"I can't remember much about the early years; I expect I went throughthe usual trials and troubles of a young subaltern, was subjected to agood deal of ragging. Well, somehow, promotion came: I was Captain atquite a youthful age. The one thing that sticks in my mind, in thosepre-war days, is the fact that we were quartered at Blankfield."
Mrs Spencer lifted calm, inquiring eyes. "At Blankfield! And where isthat?"
"You don't mean to say you haven't heard of Blankfield?"
Mrs Spencer shook her dark head. "No; I dare say it shows greatignorance, but I was never good at geography. I was brought up soquietly; I have never travelled. I know next to nothing of my owncountry, and nothing of any other."
She uttered these remarks with a disarming and appealing smile, as ifasking pardon from a man of the world for having led such an uneventfuland sequestered life--she, as he thought sardonically, the mysteriouscousin of Mrs L'Estrange, the affectionate friend of the card-sharperTommie Esmond.
"Blankfield is rather a well-known town in York
shire; it is also agarrison town. As I said, it was my lot to be quartered there."
"Was it a nice place?" queried Mrs Spencer with an air of politeinterest.
"In a way, yes; we had a good time. But my recollections of it aredistinctly unpleasant. For I had the misfortune to assist at atragedy--nay, more, to play a part in it--which has left an ineffaceablerecord upon my memory." Stella Spencer leaned forward. There was nomomentary change of expression upon the clear-cut, charming face; hereyes met his own with a calm, steady gaze. But he thought--and afterall that might be fancy--he detected a restless movement of her hands.
"I shall like to hear about that tragedy, if it is not too painful foryou to recall it," she said