CHAPTER XX
A LESSON IN PICQUET
Lord Dreever, meanwhile, having left the waterside, lighted acigarette, and proceeded to make a reflective tour of the grounds.He felt aggrieved with the world. Molly's desertion in the canoewith Jimmy did not trouble him: he had other sorrows. One is neverat one's best and sunniest when one has been forced by a ruthlessuncle into abandoning the girl one loves and becoming engaged toanother, to whom one is indifferent. Something of a jaundiced tingestains one's outlook on life in such circumstances. Moreover, LordDreever was not by nature an introspective young man, but, examininghis position as he walked along, he found himself wondering whetherit was not a little unheroic. He came to the conclusion that perhapsit was. Of course, Uncle Thomas could make it deucedly unpleasantfor him if he kicked. That was the trouble. If only he had even--say,a couple of thousands a year of his own--he might make a fightfor it. But, dash it, Uncle Tom could cut off supplies to such afrightful extent, if there was trouble, that he would have to go onliving at Dreever indefinitely, without so much as a fearful quid tocall his own.
Imagination boggled at the prospect. In the summer and autumn, whenthere was shooting, his lordship was not indisposed to a stay at thehome of his fathers. But all the year round! Better a broken heartinside the radius than a sound one in the country in the winter.
"But, by gad!" mused his lordship; "if I had as much as a couple--yes,dash it, even a couple of thousand a year, I'd chance it, andask Katie to marry me, dashed if I wouldn't!"
He walked on, drawing thoughtfully at his cigarette. The more hereviewed the situation, the less he liked it. There was only onebright spot in it, and this was the feeling that now money mustsurely get a shade less tight. Extracting the precious ore from SirThomas hitherto had been like pulling back-teeth out of a bull-dog.But, now, on the strength of this infernal engagement, surely theuncle might reasonably be expected to scatter largesse to someextent.
His lordship was just wondering whether, if approached in a softenedmood, the other might not disgorge something quite big, when alarge, warm rain-drop fell on his hand. From the bushes round aboutcame an ever increasing patter. The sky was leaden.
He looked round him for shelter. He had reached the rose-garden inthe course of his perambulations. At the far end was a summerhouse.He turned up his coat-collar, and ran.
As he drew near, he heard a slow and dirge-like whistling proceedingfrom the interior. Plunging in out of breath, just as the delugebegan, he found Hargate seated at the little wooden table with anearnest expression on his face. The table was covered with cards.Hargate had not yet been compelled to sprain his wrist, havingadopted the alternative of merely refusing invitations to playbilliards.
"Hello, Hargate," said his lordship. "Isn't it coming down, byJove!"
Hargate glanced up, nodded without speaking, and turned hisattention to the cards once more. He took one from the pack in hisleft hand, looked at it, hesitated for a moment, as if doubtfulwhereabouts on the table it would produce the most artistic effect;and finally put it face upward. Then, he moved another card from thetable, and put it on top of the other one. Throughout theperformance, he whistled painfully.
His lordship regarded his guest with annoyance.
"That looks frightfully exciting," he said, disparagingly. "What areyou playing at? Patience?"
Hargate nodded again, this time without looking up.
"Oh, don't sit there looking like a frog," said Lord Dreever,irritably. "Talk, man."
Hargate gathered up the cards, and proceeded to shuffle them in ameditative manner, whistling the while.
"Oh, stop it!" said his lordship.
Hargate nodded, and obediently put down the deck.
"Look here." said Lord Dreever, "this is boring me stiff. Let's havea game of something. Anything to pass away the time. Curse thisrain! We shall be cooped up here till dinner at this rate. Everplayed picquet? I could teach it you in five minutes."
A look almost of awe came into Hargate's face, the look of one whosees a miracle performed before his eyes. For years, he had beenusing all the large stock of diplomacy at his command to inducecallow youths to play picquet with him, and here was this--admirableyoung man, this pearl among young men, positively offering to teachhim the game. It was too much happiness. What had he done to deservethis? He felt as a toil-worn lion might feel if some antelope,instead of making its customary bee-line for the horizon, were totrot up and insert its head between his jaws.
"I--I shouldn't mind being shown the idea," he said.
He listened attentively while Lord Dreever explained at some lengththe principles that govern the game of picquet. Every now and then,he asked a question. It was evident that he was beginning to graspthe idea of the game.
"What exactly is re-piquing?" he asked, as his, lordship paused.
"It's like this," said his lordship, returning to his lecture.
"Yes, I see now," said the neophyte.
They began playing. Lord Dreever, as was only to be expected in acontest between teacher and student, won the first two hands.Hargate won the next.
"I've got the hang of it all right now," he said, complacently."It's a simple sort of game. Make it more exciting, don't you think,if we played for something?"
"All right," said Lord Dreever slowly, "if you like."
He would not have suggested it himself, but, after all, dash it, ifthe man really asked for it--It was not his fault if the winning ofa hand should have given the fellow the impression that he knew allthere was to be known about picquet. Of course, picquet was a gamewhere skill was practically bound to win. But--after all, Hargateprobably had plenty of money. He could afford it.
"All right," said his lordship again. "How much?"
"Something fairly moderate? Ten bob a hundred?"
There is no doubt that his lordship ought at this suggestion to havecorrected the novice's notion that ten shillings a hundred wasfairly moderate. He knew that it was possible for a poor player tolose four hundred points in a twenty minutes' game, and usual forhim to lose two hundred. But he let the thing go.
"Very well," he said.
Twenty minutes later, Hargate was looking some-what ruefully at thescore-sheet. "I owe you eighteen shillings," he said. "Shall I payyou now, or shall we settle up in a lump after we've finished?"
"What about stopping now?" said Lord Dreever. "It's quite fine out."
"No, let's go on. I've nothing to do till dinner, and I don'tsuppose you have."
His lordship's conscience made one last effort.
"You'd much better stop, you know, Hargate, really," he said. "Youcan lose a frightful lot at this game."
"My dear Dreever," said Hargate stiffly, "I can look after myself,thanks. Of course, if you think you are risking too much, by allmeans--"
"Oh, if you don't mind," said his lordship, outraged, "I'm only toofrightfully pleased. Only, remember I warned you."
"I'll bear it in mind. By the way, before we start, care to make ita sovereign a hundred?"
Lord Dreever could not afford to play picquet for a sovereign ahundred, or, indeed, to play picquet for money at all; but, afterhis adversary's innuendo, it was impossible for a young gentleman ofspirit to admit the humiliating fact. He nodded.
"About time, I fancy," said Hargate, looking at his watch an hourlater, "that we were going in to dress for dinner."
His lordship, made no reply. He was wrapped in thought.
"Let's see, that's twenty pounds you owe me, isn't it?" continuedHargate. "Shocking bad luck you had!"
They went out into the rose-garden.
"Jolly everything smells after the rain," said Hargate, who seemedto have struck a conversational patch. "Freshened everything up."
His lordship did not appear to have noticed it. He seemed to bethinking of something else. His air was pensive and abstracted.
"There's just time," said Hargate, looking at his watch again, "fora short stroll. I want to have a talk with you."
"Oh!" said Lord Dreever.
His air did not belie his feelings. He looked pensive, and waspensive. It was deuced awkward, this twenty pounds business.
Hargate was watching him covertly. It was his business to know otherpeople's business, and he knew that Lord Dreever was impecunious,and depended for supplies entirely on a prehensile uncle. For thesuccess of the proposal he was about to make, he depended on thisfact.
"Who's this man Pitt?" asked Hargate.
"Oh, pal of mine," said his lordship. "Why?"
"I can't stand the fellow."
"I think he's a good chap," said his lordship. "In fact,"remembering Jimmy's Good Samaritanism, "I know he is. Why don't youlike him?"
"I don't know. I don't."
"Oh?" said his lordship, indifferently. He was in no mood to listento the likes and dislikes of other men.
"Look here, Dreever," said Hargate, "I want you to do something forme. I want you to get Pitt out of the place."
Lord Dreever eyed his guest curiously.
"Eh?" he said.
Hargate repeated his remark.
"You seem to have mapped out quite a program for me," said LordDreever.
"Get him out of it," continued Hargate vehemently. Jimmy'sprohibition against billiards had hit him hard. He was suffering thetorments of Tantalus. The castle was full of young men of the kindto whom he most resorted, easy marks every one; and here he was,simply through Jimmy, careened like a disabled battleship. It wasmaddening. "Make him go. You invited him here. He doesn't expect tostop indefinitely, I suppose? If you left, he'd have to, too. Whatyou must do is to go back to London to-morrow. You can easily makesome excuse. He'll have to go with you. Then, you can drop him inLondon, and come back. That's what you must do."
A delicate pink flush might have been seen to spread itself overLord Dreever's face. He began to look like an angry rabbit. He hadnot a great deal of pride in his composition, but the thought of theignominious role that Hargate was sketching out for him stirred whathe had to its shallow bottom. Talking on, Hargate managed to add thelast straw.
"Of course," he said, "that money you lost to me at picquet--whatwas it? Twenty? Twenty pounds, wasn't it? Well, we would look onthat as canceled, of course. That will be all right."
His lordship exploded.
"Will it?" he cried, pink to the ears. "Will it, by George? I'll payyou every frightful penny of it to-morrow, and then you can clearout, instead of Pitt. What do you take me for, I should like toknow?"
"A fool, if you refuse my offer."
"I've a jolly good mind to give you a most frightful kicking."
"I shouldn't try, if I were you. It's not the sort of game you'dshine at. Better stick to picquet."
"If you think I can't pay your rotten money--"
"I do. But, if you can, so much the better. Money is always useful."
"I may be a fool in some ways--"
"You understate it, my dear man."
"--but I'm not a cad."
"You're getting quite rosy, Dreever. Wrath is good for thecomplexion."
"And, if you think you can bribe me, you never made a bigger mistakein your life."
"Yes, I did," said Hargate, "when I thought you had some glimmeringsof intelligence. But, if it gives you any pleasure to behave likethe juvenile lead in a melodrama, by all means do. Personally, Ishouldn't have thought the game would be worth the candle. But, ifyour keen sense of honor compels you to pay the twenty pounds, allright. You mentioned to-morrow? That will suit me. So, we'll let itgo it at that."
He walked off, leaving Lord Dreever filled with the comfortable glowthat comes to the weak man who for once has displayed determination.He felt that he must not go back from his dignified standpoint. Thatmoney would have to be paid, and on the morrow. Hargate was the sortof man who could, and would, make it exceedingly unpleasant for himif he failed. A debt of honor was not a thing to be trifled with.
But he felt quite safe. He knew he could get the money when hepleased. It showed, he reflected philosophically, how out of evilcometh good. His greater misfortune, the engagement, would, as itwere, neutralize the less, for it was ridiculous to suppose that SirThomas, having seen his ends accomplished, and being presumably in aspacious mood in consequence, would not be amenable to a request fora mere twenty pounds.
He went on into the hall. He felt strong and capable. He had shownHargate the stuff there was in him. He was Spennie Dreever, the manof blood and iron, the man with whom it were best not to trifle. Butit was really, come to think of it, uncommonly lucky that he wasengaged to Molly. He recoiled from the idea of attempting,unfortified by that fact, to extract twenty pounds from Sir Thomasfor a card-debt.
In the hall, he met Saunders.
"I have been looking for your lordship," said the butler.
"Eh? Well, here I am."
"Just so, your lordship. Miss McEachern entrusted me with this noteto deliver to you in the event of her not being h'able to see youbefore dinner personally, your lordship."
"Right ho. Thanks."
He started to go upstairs, opening the envelope as he went. Whatcould the girl be writing to him about? Surely, she wasn't going tostart sending him love-letters, or any of that frightful rot? Deuceddifficult it would be to play up to that sort of thing!
He stopped on the first landing to read the note, and at the openingline his jaw fell. The envelope fluttered to the ground.
"Oh, my sainted aunt!" he moaned, clutching at the banisters. "Now,I am in the soup!"
The Intrusion of Jimmy Page 20
