CHAPTER XV
THE MODERN VICE
So staggered was I that for the moment I almost forgot my disguise, andthe _role_ I was playing, and was on the point of hurrying over toDulcie and asking her how she came to be there. That Mrs. Stapleton musthave brought her, of course I guessed.
Fortunately I restrained myself just in time. Dulcie, I saw to mydismay, was not merely playing, but was deeply engrossed in the game."Sandown Park" was the game in progress at that table, a game which toall intents is a series of horse-races, but whereas at a race-meetingonly half a dozen or so races are run in an afternoon, the players at"Sandown Park" can back horses in half a dozen races in as many minutes.Judging by the interest she evidently took in the game, Dulcie must, Iconjectured, have been playing for some time, for she appeared to bequite _au fait_. Never had she mentioned this game to me, and never hadI known her to take interest in backing horses or in any form ofreckless speculation. Consequently I had reason to suppose that this wasthe first time she had played, if not the first time she had seen orheard of the game.
Did I dare approach her? Would my feelings get the better of me and leadto my betraying who I was? Though I had not been identified by peoplewho knew me, would Dulcie's perception be keener and lead to her seeingthrough my disguise? These and similar doubts and questions crowded mybrain as I stood there watching her from a distance, but in the endindiscretion got the better of prudence, and I decided to join the menand women grouped about the table at which she and her friend sat.
For fully ten minutes I stood there, and during that time I saw her winseven times in succession. She seemed to play without judgment orcalculation, in fact, with absolute recklessness, and after winningthree "races" in succession she had increased her stake each time. Inthe fourth "race" she had backed a horse for ten pounds at four to one,and won. In the next race she had planked twenty sovereigns on anoutsider, and raked in over a hundred pounds. The next two races hadincreased her pile by between three and four hundred pounds. I could seeher panting with excitement. Her lips were slightly parted. Her eyesshone. Her whole soul seemed centred upon the game.
And then she began to lose.
At first slowly, then rapidly, her pile of gold and notes dwindled. Timeafter time she backed the wrong "animal." Now only a few five- andten-pound notes and a little heap of sovereigns--twenty atmost--remained. Her face had turned gradually pale. Connie Stapletonleant towards her and whispered in her ear. I saw Dulcie nod; then,taking up all the money in front of her, she handed it to the man whoheld the bank, and received a ticket in return.
The board with the graduated divisions and the names of the horsesmarked upon them spun round once more. Dulcie's brows were contracted,her face was drawn, her expression tense. Slowly the board nowrevolved, slower still. It stopped. I saw her give a little start, anddistinctly heard the gasp which escaped her.
She had lost everything.
Connie Stapleton's hand closed over hers, as though to reassure her.Again the widow spoke into her ear. A moment later I saw a roll of notespushed towards Dulcie. Eagerly she grabbed them.
This was terrible. I realized at once what was happening. The widow waslending her money. I wondered if the money she had already lost had beenlent to her by her friend. Instantly it dawned upon me that it must havebeen, unless, indeed, Dulcie had, before I arrived, been extraordinarilylucky, for I knew that she had not money enough of her own to gamblewith for such high stakes. She was playing again now--and losing. Onceor twice she won, but after each winner came several losers. I wasgradually getting fascinated. Again the widow lent her money, and againshe lost it all.
At last they rose. Never, as long as I live, shall I forget theexpression that was on my darling's face as, with the widow's arm linkedwithin her own, she made her way towards the door.
I followed them to the supper room. They stopped, and, standing at oneof the tables, Mrs. Stapleton filled two glasses with champagne. Shegave Dulcie one, and herself emptied the other. She filled her own againand once more emptied it. Dulcie only half emptied her glass, thenset it down.
Out of the room they went. While they put on their wraps I went insearch of my hat. A few minutes later Mrs. Stapleton and Dulcie wereentering a car which I at once recognized as Connie Stapleton's. As thecar started I saw a taxi approaching, and hailed it.
"Follow that car," I said to the driver. "Keep it in sight, and, whenyou see it stop, stop forty or fifty yards behind it."
Right up into Hampstead the grey car sped. It slackened speed nearSouthend Road, eventually pulling up at a house in Willow Road. Leaningforward, I rubbed the frosted glass in the front of my taxi, and peeredout. I saw Mrs. Stapleton alight first; then she turned and helpedDulcie to get out. Both entered the house. The door closed quietly, andthe car rolled away.
For some minutes I waited. Then I told my driver to pass slowly by thehouse and make a note of the number. The number was "460."
That, at any rate, was satisfactory. I had discovered what was,presumably, Mrs. Stapleton's London address. Only then did I begin towonder what Osborne and Preston would think when they found that I hadgone. So engrossed had I become in Dulcie's movements that for the timeall thought of my two companions had passed out of my mind. I thought ofreturning to the house in Cumberland Place; then, deciding that it wastoo late, I told the driver to go direct to my flat in SouthMolton Street.
A letter was lying on the table in my sitting-room. I seemed torecognize the writing, and yet--
I tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter. To my surprise itwas from Dick, who was now back at Eton. "My dear Mike," it ran. "I havesomething very important to say to you, and I want to say it at once.But I don't want to write it. Can you come here to see me to-morrow assoon as possible, or can you get leave for me to come to London to seeyou? I don't want to go home, because if I did father and Aunt Hannahand Dulcie would ask questions, and what I want to say to you is _quiteprivate_. Will you telegraph to me as soon as you get this to say what Ican do and where I can see you at once?
"Your affectionate brother-in-law-to-be,
"DICK."
I read the letter through again; then refolded it and put it in adrawer. The letter, I saw by the postmark, had arrived by the last post.
What could the boy want to see me about? What could he have to say to methat he wished to keep secret from his family? I could not imagine.Anyway, I would, I decided, gratify him--I was very fond of Dick. Thenand there I wrote out a telegram to be sent off early in the morning,telling him that I would come down in the afternoon; I had decided totry to see something of Dulcie during the morning, also to telephone toHolt to inquire for her, though without betraying to Sir Roland or AuntHannah that I knew anything of her movements during the previous night.
But Sir Roland forestalled me. Shortly after eight o'clock I wasawakened by the telephone at my bedside ringing loudly. Still halfasleep, I grabbed the receiver and glued it to my ear.
"Had I seen anything of Dulcie? Did I know where she was and why she hadnot returned?"
The speaker was Sir Roland, and he spoke from Holt Manor.
"Why, isn't she at home?" I asked, controlling my voice.
"If she were here I shouldn't ask where she is," Sir Roland answeredquite sharply. "Mrs. Stapleton called yesterday afternoon to ask ifDulcie might dine with her in town and go to the theatre. Of course Iraised no objection"--Sir Roland in no way shared my suspicionconcerning Mrs. Stapleton; on the contrary, she attracted him and heliked her, though Aunt Hannah did not--"and Dulcie dressed and went offat about five o'clock. They were to go to 'The Rook,' Mrs. Stapletonsaid, where she would dress, and then they would motor to London. Mrs.Stapleton assured me that she would bring Dulcie back here by aboutmidnight or one o'clock, and Dulcie took with her the key of the backdoor, so that nobody need wait up for her--she told her maid to go tobed. Her maid has just come to tell me that when she went to awakenDulcie, she found that she had not returned. I have telephoned to 'TheRook,' and t
hey tell me there that Mrs. Stapleton has not been back tothe hotel since yesterday soon after lunch. So I suppose that afterleaving here she decided to motor straight to town, and dress there. Isuppose she has some _pied-a-terre_ in London, though she has nevertold me so."
"And you say that Dulcie has the door key with her," I said. "Do youthink it was wise to give it to her?"
"Why in the world not? She has often taken it before. But tell me, haveyou seen anything of Dulcie?"
I didn't like telling an untruth, but, questioned in that point-blankway, I had to prevaricate; otherwise I should have been forced to sayall I knew.
"She has not been to see me," I answered. "Perhaps Mrs. Stapleton's carbroke down and they have been obliged to seek refuge at some waysideinn. I wouldn't be anxious, Sir Roland," I added, knowing how little itneeded to make him anxious about Dulcie. "You will probably get atelegram from one of them presently."
We exchanged a few more remarks, and then Sir Roland exclaimed suddenly:
"Hold the line a moment. Hannah wants to speak to you."
Aunt Hannah, who, whatever faults she possessed, rarely lost her head,spoke sensibly and incisively. She didn't like this affair at all, shesaid, and intended to speak very seriously to Dulcie immediately uponher return. Also she was determined to put an end to this strongfriendship between her niece and Mrs. Stapleton. On Dulcie's side, shesaid, it was nothing less than an absurd infatuation. She would not haveminded her being infatuated about some women, but she had comethoroughly to mistrust Mrs. Stapleton.
I asked her to telephone or telegraph to me the moment Dulcie got home,and said that if I saw Dulcie in town or heard anything of her duringthe morning I would at once ring up Holt Manor. With that we rang off.
"Can I see Mrs. Stapleton?" I inquired, as the door of the house inWillow Road was opened by a maid with rather curious eyes; I had comethere straight from my flat, no longer wearing my disguise, and it wasnearly eleven o'clock. Just then I had an inspiration, and I addedquickly, before she had time to answer, "or Mr. Hugesson Gastrell?"
An arrow shot at random, it proved a lucky shot, for the maid answeredat once:
"Mrs. Stapleton isn't dressed yet, sir; but Mr. Gastrell can see you, Iexpect. What name shall I say?"
I was shown into a small morning room, and there I waited for, Isuppose, five minutes. At last I heard footsteps approaching, and in amoment Gastrell entered.
"Dear me, this is a surprise," he exclaimed cordially, extending hishand. "I didn't know I had given you this address. Well, and what can Ido for you?"
His tone, as he said this, was rather that of a patron addressing aninferior, but I pretended not to notice it, and, drawing upon myimagination, answered:
"I don't think you did give me this address; it was somebody else--Iforget who--who mentioned it to me the other day in course ofconversation. Really I have come to see Mrs. Stapleton and inquire forMiss Challoner."
"Miss Challoner? Do you mean Miss Dulcie Challoner, Sir Roland'sdaughter?"
"Yes."
An extremely puzzled look came into his eyes, though this he wasprobably not aware of.
"But what makes you think Miss Challoner is here?" he inquired quickly.
"She spent the night here with Mrs. Stapleton."
He looked still more puzzled.
"Did she really?" he answered in a tone of surprise which obviously wasfeigned.
"Yes. Didn't you know?"
"This is the first I have heard of it, but I dare say you are right.Mrs. Stapleton has rooms in this house--it's a little privateestablishment of mine--but beyond that I know little of her movements.I'll go and inquire if you'll wait a moment."
"Clever scoundrel!" I said aloud when he had left the room and shut thedoor. "Rooms here," "knows little of her movements," "first he has heardof it." But I am going to bowl you out in the end, my friend, I endedmentally as I seated myself and picked up one of the morning paperswhich lay upon the table. It was the _Morning Post_. I noticed thatseveral little bits had been cut out of the front page--presumablyadvertisements.
I had scanned one or two pages and was reading a leading article whenGastrell returned.
"You are quite right," he said, offering me his cigarette case. "MissChalloner is here. After supper last night at the Carlton with Mrs.Stapleton she didn't feel very well, so Mrs. Stapleton persuaded her tocome back and sleep here instead of motoring back to Newbury. She toldher maid to telegraph early this morning to Sir Roland Challoner, incase he should feel anxious at Miss Challoner's not returning lastnight, but the maid stupidly forgot to. She is sending a telegram now.Miss Challoner is quite all right this morning, and will be downpresently, but I am afraid you won't be able to see Mrs. Stapleton, asshe isn't up yet."
I thanked him for finding out, thinking, as I did so, that certainly hewas one of the most plausible liars I had ever come across; and then fora few minutes we conversed on general topics.
"You don't remember who it was told you my address?" he presently askedcarelessly, flicking his cigarette ash into the grate.
"I am sorry, I don't," I answered, pretending to think. "It was somedays ago that somebody or other told me you lived here, or rather thatyou had an address here."
"Oh, indeed. It's odd how people talk. By the way, how did you come toknow that Mrs. Stapleton and Miss Challoner were here?"
His question was interrupted by Dulcie's entering, wrapped in a greatfur coat. There were dark marks under her eyes that I had never seenthere before, but she seemed in quite good spirits as she came acrossthe room and greeted me.
"How in the world did you find out I was here!" she exclaimed. "It ismost astonishing. Did you know that Connie had rooms here? I didn't,until last night. It was so good of her to put me up. I can't think whatit was upset me so last night, but I am quite all right this morning.Connie has just telegraphed to father to explain my absence--you knowhow little it takes to worry him. I've got my evening dress on underthis coat that Connie's lent me. She wanted to lend me one of her daydresses, but not one of them comes near fitting me."
I gasped. I couldn't answer. It was bad enough to find people likeGastrell and Jasmine Gastrell and Connie Stapleton perjuring themselvesin the calmest way imaginable; but that Dulcie, whom I had until nowimplicitly believed to be everything that was good should thus look mein the eyes and lie to me--with as much self-assurance as though she hadbeen accustomed to practising deception all her life.
A kind of haze seemed to rise before my eyes. My brain throbbed. All theblood seemed suddenly to be going out of my heart. Mechanically puttingout an arm, I supported myself against the mantelpiece.
"Mike! Mike! What is the matter? Are you ill? do you feel faint?"
Her voice sounded a long, long way off. I heard her words as one hearswords in a dream. My mouth had turned suddenly dry. I tried to speak,but could not.
"Here, Berrington, drink this and you'll feel better."
These were the next words I remember hearing. I was lying back on thesettee, and Gastrell was holding a tumbler to my lips. It containedbrandy slightly diluted. I drank a lot of it, and it revived me tosome extent.
Still uncertain if I were sleeping or awake, I passed out through thehall, slightly supported by Dulcie, and clambered after her into thetaxi which awaited us outside.
"Go to Paddington," I heard her say to the driver, as she pulled thedoor to. No servant had come out of the house, and Gastrell haddisappeared while we were still inside the hall.