Confessions of a Young Lady Part 32

"I forbid it!" she cried. "Father, I forbid it!"

"Do not disturb yourself, my child. I am in all things moderate. The stakes are high enough--for me."

Mr Davison's losses increased. He never scored a trick. He was making a record in bad luck. His lips were parched, his hands trembling.

"That makes three hundred pounds," said M. de Fontanes, reading his tablets.

"Three hundred pounds!" repeated the young man, a little hoa.r.s.ely, perhaps.

"It shall not be!"

The interruption came from Mdlle. de Fontanes. She advanced to the table. She laid her hand upon the pack of cards which Mr Davison was about to deal. Her father looked up at her interrogatively.

"I say it shall not be. I will not have it, father. Mr Davison, you owe my father nothing; he cheats you all the time."

M. de Fontanes rose. His tall figure seemed to tower to an unusual height.

"I care not. I tell you, Mr Davison, you owe my father nothing--not a sou--! He cheats you all the time!"

Mr Davison staggered to his feet, his eyes opened, as it were, by a sudden flash of lightning. He threw the pack of cards, which he was holding, into the old man's face.

There was silence. Then the old man's lips moved.

"To-morrow," he muttered, so that the words were scarcely audible, and left the room.

When he was gone, the lady addressed the gentleman:

"You, too, had better go."

Mr Davison went. Mdlle. de Fontanes was left alone. She did not escort him down the stairs. And this time, as he walked through the night to his hotel, it was not a woman's eyes, but a pack of cards which he saw before him in the air.

CHAPTER IV

The next morning--another morning!--at a very early hour, Mr Davison entered Mr Lintorn's bedroom. The latter gentleman was still engaged in his toilet.

"Lintorn, I am an a.s.s!"

"The fact," said Mr Lintorn placidly, and as though there had been no unpleasantness of any kind between them, "does not surprise me so much as the statement of the fact."

"I've behaved like an a.s.s to you."

"You have."

Mr Lintorn wiped the soap off his razor; he had a steadier hand than Mr Davison.

"I've behaved like an a.s.s all round."

"I can believe it easily. Indeed, you are, in general, an a.s.s. You're a nice fellow, but you are an a.s.s. You'll grow out of it in time, but you'll have to do a deal of growing first." Mr Lintorn glanced at his friend, who was pacing round the room. "How's your eye?"

"Oh, hang my eye! Lintorn, how much do you think I've lost within the last three nights? Five hundred pounds!"

Mr Lintorn whistled.

"How pleasant it is to be rich and young."

"But I'm not rich. With the exception of five thousand pounds left me by my aunt to help me along while I'm reading for the bar, I've scarcely a penny in the world."

"Davison, you don't mean that?"

"I do mean it. And the worst of it is, it's not been fairly lost. That old rogue's been rooking me all through."

"Oh, you've discovered that, have you? After trying to murder me for warning you."

Then Mr Davison told his tale. How Mdlle. de Fontanes had interrupted the game, and exposed her father's pernicious practices. Mr Lintorn expressed much admiration of the lady's conduct.

"She looked like a G.o.ddess then, if you like. I should like to have seen her."

"She did look like a G.o.ddess; but I don't know that you would have liked to have seen her. She made me feel uncommonly small, I do know that."

"That's of course! but that's so easy."

While Mr Davison was thinking of a retort with which to crush his friend--for even a worm will turn--there came a tap at the door. A waiter entered.

"A lady to see M. Davison."

"A lady! To see me! What's her name?"

"She does not give her name. It is a young lady--a pretty young lady."

It was the waiter who had found it impossible to avoid commenting on Mr Davison's appearance. It was plain he had not learnt his lesson yet. "She attends in the _salon_."

The waiter disappeared.

"Bet you a guinea," cried Mr Lintorn, "that it's Mdlle. de Fontanes.

Davison, I've almost finished shaving; I'll take this business off your hands if you like."

"Thanks; I'm much obliged. This time I will not trouble you."

It was Mdlle. de Fontanes. When Mr Davison appeared she was standing in the centre of the room. A thick black veil was before her face.

That waiter must have had keen eyes to detect the prettiness beneath it. A little packet was in her hand. Opening it, she turned out its contents on the table. There was a little heap of notes and gold.

"That is the money which my father has won from you."

This was her greeting as the young gentleman entered the room.

"Mdlle. de Fontanes!"

There was a pause. Mr Davison looked from the lady to the money, and from the money to the lady. With a little movement she lifted her veil.