Friday’s Child

Chapter Sixteen

SINCE HE WAS NOT A YOUNG GENTLEMAN WHO was much given to reflection, it did not occur to the Viscount that his next meeting with his friend Revesby need necessarily be attended by constraint. He had been a good deal shaken by the disagreeable light cast on Revesby’s character, and by the time he had had a slightly difficult interview with Ruth Wimborne (which was thrust upon him by his wife on the following morning) he had no doubt that her story was true in all its essential features. But he was ready to believe that there might be another side to the story, and had Sir Montagu offered him an alternative version he might have accepted it. But he did not see Sir Montagu for several days, and when they did encounter one another again, Sir Montagu made no reference to the affair. He was at his most urbane; the fracas might never have taken place. Sherry was nettled. He was a generous young man, and he had raised no demur at being called upon to provide for another man’s mistress and child, but when he found Revesby apparently forgetful of the whole episode the notion, first put into his head by his cousin Ferdy, that it was not right of the fellow to leave the baby on his hands, began to take strong possession of him.

It began to dawn upon him, too — not quite at once, but very soon — that whatever Revesby’s attitude had been, there must be considerable awkwardness in continued intimacy with a man whom one could not, under the circumstances, permit to approach one’s wife. Hero had asked him shyly not to invite Sir Montagu to Half Moon Street when she was expected to be present at the party; he had replied that she need have no fears on that score.

“And if he should ask me to stand up with him at Almack’s, Sherry, you won’t be offended with me if I excuse myself? For, indeed — ”

“Make yourself easy: he will not do so! You need do no more than bow to him, should you meet him at any time. It will be better you should do so, you know, for it would cause a deal of talk if you were to cut him. And mind this, Kitten! Not a word of this business to a soul!”

“No, I will not mention it,” she promised. “That is — he is paying particular attentions to Isabella, Sherry. Do you not think that I ought to warn her that he is not a proper person for her to know?”

“On no account in the world!” he said emphatically. “Isabella has her mother to keep an eye on her, and you may depend upon it Mrs Milborne has a very good notion of what Monty is! I wish to God you had a mother too!”

“Oh, but you keep an eye on me, Sherry, so it is of no consequence!” she assured him.

“Yes, it is,” he said. “I’m not a female, so how the deuce should I guess what you will be up to next? It is a thousand pities my own mother don’t take a fancy to you!”

So far from taking a fancy to her daughter-in-law, the dowager had been solacing herself for the past two months with the task of collecting and brooding over all the indiscretions committed by Hero which were known to the world at large. By some mysterious means she had contrived to discover her son’s predeliction for deep play at unsavoury gaming hells, and had actually put herself to the trouble of visiting Hero for the purpose of impressing upon her that such excesses had been unknown to poor Anthony before his marriage had wrecked his life. Hero was quite overpowered, but the dowager arose from the session much refreshed and went away to tell her sympathetic brother that if the worst came to the worst, at least she had told Hero what she thought of her behaviour. After that, and finding that her friends were disinclined to listen to a repetition of her troubles, she withdrew again to Sheringham Place, and the house in Grosvenor Square was once more swathed in holland covers.

Hero, meanwhile, having spent an enjoyable morning buying clothes for Ruth’s baby, greatly exasperated her husband by electing to escort this unfortunate young female down to Melton for the purpose of installing her in her new home, and making her known to the Gorings. So the Viscount, returning to his house in good time to accompany his wife to a dinner-party, was met by the pleasing intelligence that her ladyship had gone into the country with Mrs Wimborne, and would not be back until the following evening. It was apparent, from the hurried note Hero had left him, that she had forgotten all about the dinner-party; so the Viscount was obliged to create on the spot an aged relative on the distaff side of Hero’s family, to endow this mythical person with the feeblest of health, to lay her low upon her deathbed, and thus to account for his wife’s precipitate departure from town.

It was more than a week later before he met Sir Montagu under circumstances which permitted of private conversation, and Sir Montagu did not avail himself of the opportunity to take his young friend into his confidence. He had, instead, an amusing history to recount, and a successful day at the races to describe. Sherry, for once impervious to his charm, heard him with rising impatience, and presently broke in on his talk to say bluntly: “Yes, I dare say, but about that affair the other night, Monty — !”

Sir Montagu’s brows rose. “What affair, my dear boy?”

“Outside Almack’s of course! You know — ”

“Good heavens, Sherry, I had forgotten all about it!” said Sir Montagu, amused. “If the poor young female was not mad, which I am persuaded she must be, it is one of the oldest tricks in the world, my dear fellow! Only she made a bad choice in her victim: I am a little too experienced to be caught by such an imposture, believe me!”

“Doing it rather too brown, Monty!” said Sherry, with quite unaccustomed dryness.

Sir Montagu’s smile seemed to harden on his lips. After a moment’s pause, he said lightly: “My poor boy, you are very innocent, are you not? Come! let us banish such unsavoury matters! Do you care to join me this evening at a little party in my lodging? I have Brock coming, and one or two others whom you are acquainted with.”

“Mighty good of you, but I’m engaged with a party of my own!” returned Sherry, and swung round on his heel, leaving Sir Montagu to some disagreeable reflections on the unwisdom of mishandling young gentlemen of such uncomfortable mettle.

Unfortunately for his own schemes, it was not given to Sir Montagu to appreciate the fundamental honesty in Sherry which made him shy off in disgust from a disingenuity blatant enough to amount to actual falsity. Sir Montagu, whose pecuniary embarrassments made him all the more disinclined to acknowledge even so trifling an obligation as a bastard child, had decided on the spur of a most unnerving moment to deny all knowledge of a wench whose existence he had indeed almost forgotten, and it would have been quite impossible for one of his character to have recanted, even to Sherry. He consoled himself with the reflection that Sherry’s miffs were never long-lived; but when, some days later, he ran into Sherry in St James’s Street, and detected a good deal of reserve in his manner, he felt a considerable degree of chagrin, and had little hesitation in ascribing this coldness to Lady Sheringham, who had bestowed the smallest of unsmiling bows upon him at the theatre a couple of evenings previously.

It was not to be expected, of course, that his estrangement from Sir Montagu would have the immediate effect of weaning Sherry from his gaming habits. But it did keep him away from certain establishments in Pall Mall and Pickering Place, where he would be bound to meet Revesby, and send him back to Watier’s and White’s. And this, as Mr Ringwood confided to Ferdy Fakenham, was an advantage, for although the play was deeper at Watier’s than anywhere else in town, at least that holy of holies was not patronized by sharps or ivory-turners.

It was not long, in the nature of things, before the knowledge of Ruth Wimborne’s present whereabouts came to Sir Montagu’s ears, for Ferdy told the story to his brother, and Mr Ringwood let it out to Lord Wrotham over the second bottle of port at a snug little dinner at his lodgings. It was rather too good a joke to be kept from such gentlemen as could be counted on to appreciate it, and the whisper began to circulate in strictly male circles. Sir Matthew Brockenhurst slyly twitted Sir Montagu upon it, and while Sir Montagu laughed at the notion that he could be implicated in the affair, under his mirth he seethed with rage. Correctly assuming that left to his own devices Sherry would never have thought of befriending Ruth Wimborne, Sir Montagu chalked up a fresh score on his tally with Sherry’s wife, promising himself the satisfaction of paying it off in full measure. He had a good deal of effrontery, but the situation evoked by the knowledge that his discarded mistress had found an asylum for herself and her infant on one of Sherry’s estates was not one he felt himself able to carry off with any degree of grace. He was obliged to face the fact that one of the most richly feathered pigeons to come in his way had flown out of his reach, and showed no disposition to flutter back to him.

It was while Sherry was away at Newmarket that Hero made a new acquaintance. She was one of a party invited by her cousin, Mrs Hoby, to visit the Pantheon Assembly Rooms on the night of a Grand Masquerade, and it was during the course of the evening that a fashionably dressed woman, with quiet manners, and a great air of elegance, came to Mrs Hoby’s box, and begged to know if she was not right in believing that she was addressing Lady Sheringham.

Hero acknowledged it, and the lady sat down beside her, introducing herself as Mrs Gillingham, and adding that Lord Sheringham had perhaps mentioned her name to his bride? Upon Hero’s replying that he had not, she laughed, and said that it was so very like Sherry to have forgotten all about her.

“I have not been in good health these past few months, or I should have done myself the honour of calling upon you, Lady Sheringham, be sure! I have known Sherry any time these past five years, and I have had the greatest desire to meet his wife. I feel we must be friends; I pride myself on knowing at first glance when I wish for a better acquaintance with anyone!”

Hero blushed, and thanked her, and begged leave to present her cousin. Mrs. Gillingham, who was a good many years senior to any of Mrs Hoby’s party, was extremely gracious and amiable, remained for a short while, chatting easily, and departed only when she had obtained Hero’s promise to waive the formality of the morning call, and to make one of a little card party she was giving on the following evening.

“Do you think I should go, Theresa?” Hero asked doubtfully, when Mrs Gillingham had withdrawn.

“Oh, unquestionably, my dear cousin! Such a distinguished air, and her gown in the first style of elegance! The address too; Curzon Street: it is unexceptionable! She is acquainted with your husband, moreover, and that must make her acceptable to you, I have no doubt!”

“Y-es,” said Hero. “But Sherry told me once that he knows many people he does not wish to present to me.

Mrs Hoby gave a little shriek of laughter. “Oh, my dear, what will you say next, I wonder? Depend upon it, Mrs Gillingham does not come under that category! Why, she must be thirty-five, if she is a day, and very likely more!”

So upon the following evening Hero was set down at a slip of a house in Curzon Street, and made a somewhat shy entrance into a saloon already full of guests. Her hostess came forward at once, and made her welcome in the kindest way, introducing her to one or two complete strangers, and pressing a glass of champagne upon her. Hero was a little surprised to find that she knew no one in the room, and after looking about her for a while she began to feel uneasy, and to fear that perhaps Sherry would not have wished her to have come. When Sir Matthew Brockenhurst arrived, with the Honourable Wilfred Yarford, she wished it more than ever, and had she known how to excuse herself without giving offence to her hostess, or drawing upon herself the particular notice she wished to avoid, she would certainly have done so. She did not know, however, and when the company adjourned to a much larger apartment on the first floor, where card tables were set out, she meekly allowed herself to be shepherded up the stairs with the rest of the guests.

She liked playing cards, and since she had been initiated into the mysteries of faro, rouge et noir, macao, and a number of other games of chance by Sherry himself, she naturally considered that she was well able to hold her own in any company. This proved, however, not to be the case. The stakes, too, were much higher than any she had yet played for, and she was soon put into a little confusion by finding herself without any more money to stake. Mrs Gillingham was kindness itself, smiling at her innocence, and explaining to her how everyone punted on tick until the luck turned for them, and showing her how to write a vowel. Hero remembered hearing Sherry talk of having given vowels, so she knew that this must be the accepted custom, and settled down to win back her losses. She became so absorbed in the game that she scarcely noticed anything beyond the turn of a card; and what with the excitement of the play, the heat of the room, and the champagne which was continually poured into her glass, she began to plunge more and more heavily, arising in the small hours a much greater loser than she had had any very clear idea of. Her vowels appeared, incredibly, to run into four figures, and how she was ever to pay such a sum until her next quarter’s allowance should be paid to her account she had not the lest idea. But here again Mrs Gillingham was most understanding, assuring her that Jack Cranbourne, who had held the bank, would not dream of pressing for payment, and expressing her conviction that another evening’s play would see all the vowels redeemed, and a stream of guineas pouring into her young friend’s lap. Hero, effectually sobered by her losses, had no desire to spend another evening in this house, but she knew that what Mrs Gillingham said was true, because Sherry had said the same. One had only to have courage to ignore one’s losses, and to continue playing, for the luck to change, and set all to rights.

But the second night’s play was even more disastrous than the first; and some warning instinct in Hero told her that a third would be no more successful. Thoroughly frightened, shivering at the thought of the vast sums she had lost, and not knowing which way to turn in her extremity, she spent what was left of the night tossing about in her bed, and racking her brains to find a way out of her difficulties. To present Sherry with the sum of her obligations seemed to her unthinkable, for poor Sherry had his own obligations, and had said only a week earlier that they must really try to practice economy. Hero wept into her pillow with grief to think that she should have added to Sherry’s embarrassments; and thought that her mother-in-law had spoken no less than the truth when she had accused her of having wrecked his life.

He came home from Newmarket that day, to find a heavy-eyed wife, who explained nervously that she had the headache. He said that he had one himself, and had no hesitation in ascribing it to the malignant behaviour of four out of five of the horses he had backed. Hero turned pale, and faltered: “Was your luck so very bad, Sherry?”

“Devilish!” he replied. “If it goes on like this I shall find myself in the hands of some curst cent-per-cent, I can tell you!” He broke the wafer of one of the letters which had been awaiting him, and ejaculated: “Bills! nothing but bills! There’s no end to it! What a damned homecoming for a man!”

“What — what is a cent-per-cent, Sherry?” asked his wife in a small voice.

“Moneylender,” he replied, consigning another bill to the fire, and breaking open a more promising-looking billet.

“Do people lend one money?” she asked anxiously.

“Usurers do — at a devilish rate of interest, too! I know ’em all too well! Used to be for ever at Howard and Gibbs before the Trust was wound up.”

“Howard and Gibbs, did you say, Sherry?”

“Yes, they’re about the best of the bloodsuckers, and that ain’t saying much.” He looked up from his letter. “What the deuce do you want to know about moneylenders for, Kitten?”

“I — only that I did not perfectly understand what a cent-per-cent is!” she said quickly.

“Well, don’t go talking of ’em!” he warned her. “It ain’t a genteel expression!”

That highly successful firm of philanthropists, Messrs Howard and Gibbs, received upon the following morning a visit from a closely-veiled lady, who drove up in a hackney, and was plainly ignorant of the principles which governed the particular form of finance practised by the firm. The respectable gentleman who interviewed this lady seemed at first strangely disinclined to accommodate her. He bewildered her by talking suavely of securities and credentials, but when she disclosed to him her identity his manner underwent a gratifying change, and he not only explained the terms on which the firm would be ready to advance a loan, but expressed his willingness to serve her in any way possible. He seemed to have no difficulty in understanding how it came about that she had lost such a sum in only two nights’ play, and showed himself in general to be so sympathetic that his client presently left the building with a high opinion of the whole race of moneylenders.

But while his wife was happily redeeming vowels with the money so generously advanced to her by Messrs Howard and Gibbs, Sherry had received a billet on gilt-edged, scented notepaper from a lady with whom he had had no dealings since his marriage. He frowned over this missive, for he was not in the mood to embark on the kind of intrigue its mysterious wording seemed to promise. The writer said that she did not like to ask him to visit her, but she had something to say to him which was of vast importance, and which he would regret not hearing. Sherry read this through twice, decided that Nancy had never been one to play tricks on a fellow, and took himself off to the street in which she had her lodging.

He found her at home, and was received by her with her merriest smile and most welcoming manner.

“Sherry, I hoped you would come!” she said. “I oughtn’t to ask it of you, I dare say, but give me a kiss for old times’ sake!”

He obeyed this behest willingly enough, for if she was growing to be a little faded she was still a cosy armful, and he had a fondness for her quite apart from his amorous dealings with her. “Yes, this is all very well, Nancy, but I’m a married man now! Turned over a new leaf!” he said, giving her plump shoulders a hug.

“Lord bless you, Sherry, don’t I know that? And you need not be thinking that I’ve sent for you to make trouble, for that’s what I would never do, and so you should know! It’s because we had some delightful times together, and I always liked you, that I asked you to come. Yes, and I like the look of that little wife of yours, Sherry — and that’s the root of the matter!”

“What the deuce has my wife to do with it?” he demanded.

“Sit down, my dear, and take that ugly frown off your face, do! You’ve been at Newmarket, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but — ”

“Well, now, Sherry, if I’m telling you something you don’t care to hear from me, just you remember that I wouldn’t breathe a word if I weren’t fond of you, and if I didn’t happen to have heard — never mind where! that that little wife of yours is only a baby who ain’t up to snuff like half the fine ladies that hold their noses so high in the air!”

The Viscount’s blue eyes were fixed intently on her face. “Go on!” he said briefly.

She smiled at him. “Well, my dearie, I saw your wife where she’d no business to be, and how she came there is what I can’t tell you, for try as I will I can’t discover who put her in the way of meeting Charlotte Gillingham.”

“What?” exclaimed his lordship incredulously.

“Yes, my dear, that’s where I saw her, and mighty ill-at-ease she looked, poor little creature, not knowing a soul, and wishing she had not come, if I know anything of the matter! And the long and short of it is, Sherry, that there were some deep doings, and your wife was badly dipped. Now, maybe I wouldn’t have said anything about it to you if I hadn’t discovered that she went again, the very next night, but she did, and you know as well as I do that if she gets into the hands of that set she will be ruined in more ways than one.”

“My God!” Sherry said. “Oh, my God, what next will she do?”

Nancy patted his hand. “Now, don’t put yourself in a pucker, for there’s very little harm done yet! And don’t fly into one of your tantrums with the poor child, for she looked frightened to death when I saw her, and I don’t doubt she’s had her lesson without your scaring her worse than ever.”

“No,” he said. “No, I won’t. Charlotte Gillingham! Who in the devil’s name — ” He broke off, and got up abruptly. “By God, if I thought — Nancy, I’m off! You’re a deuced good friend, my girl, and I’m devilish grateful to you!”

“Well, give me another kiss, then!” she said, laughing.

The Viscount reached home again to find that his wife had gone out driving in the Park. It said much for his newfound sense of responsibility that, after a glance at the ormolu clock on the drawing-room mantelpiece, he sent round a note to Stratton Street, briefly excusing himself from accompanying Mr Ringwood on an expedition to Richmond.

When Hero presently returned to the house, she ran lightly upstairs, and the Viscount heard her moving about in the room behind the drawing-room. She did not sound to be in dejected spirits, which surprised him a little, and when she at last entered the drawing-room the start she gave upon seeing him there was one of unadulterated gladness. “Sherry! I had not thought you were at home! Do you not go with Gil, after all?”

“No. I’m dining at home. Come over here, Kitten: I want to talk to you.”

She blushed rosily. “Do you, Sherry? How comfortable that sounds!”

“That’s just what it ain’t in the least likely to be!” muttered his lordship.

She came to the fire. “What did you say, Sherry?”

“Nothing. Sit down! Oh, the devil take that bird!” He strode over to the canary, and covered its cage, and turned back to Hero. “Now, brat, out with it! How badly were you dipped at Charlotte Gillingham’s house while I was away?”

The colour fled from her cheeks, and the look of trustful expectancy from her eyes. “Oh, Sherry, who told you?” she said, in a frightened voice.

“Never mind that! How much, Kitten?”

She shuddered. “Oh, don’t ask me! It was so shocking!”

“Not ask you!” he exclaimed. “How the deuce am I to settle your debts if I don’t know what they are? Don’t be nonsensical!”

“Oh, Sherry, Sherry, I am so very sorry! Indeed, I never meant to be such a bad wife! And you are not going to settle for me at all, because I am going to pay it myself, and I shall do so, Sherry, because you give me such a big allowance for my pin-money, and I won’t purchase any more new gowns, or anything! I promise!”

“That’s fudge, brat. Besides, you must pay your gaming debts at once, you know. Can’t expect people to wait for what you owe ’em. Shocking bad ton, my girl!”

“Yes, yes, I know that, and indeed I have redeemed all my vowels, though at first I did not know how in the world I could do so, and I felt as though I would rather die than — ”

“Just a moment!” Sherry said, catching her unquiet hands, and holding them in a hard grasp. “How did you contrive to come by the money to redeem your vowels? I’ll swear you’d little enough left of this quarter’s allowance! Kitten, you haven’t sold the emeralds?”

“Oh, no, Sherry! Of course I have not done such a wicked thing! Why, they are not mine to sell! How could you think I would dream of doing so?”

“Then how the devil did you raise the wind?”

“I borrowed the money!” she replied triumphantly.

“Borrowed it? Good God, I had rather you had sold the emeralds! Who — Kitten, don’t tell me you came down on poor old Gil to lend you money!”

“No, no! I knew that would not do! I went to those people you told me about, and they were very obliging, and — ”

“What people?” he interrupted, turning a little pale.

“I do not recall their names, but you will know, Sherry! you called them cent-per-cent, and they live — ”

“Howard and Gibbs!” he ejaculated, in a stunned tone.

“Yes, those are their names,” she nodded. “And as soon as I told them I was your wife they — at least, it was just one man — he was most civil, and he said he was perfectly willing to lend me the money, and I need not fear that he would press me for an early settlement.”

“I’ll warrant he did!” Sherry said. He released her hands. “Howard and Gibbs! Kitten, how could you?”

“You are angry!” she faltered. “Was it wrong of me? I did not know. You said you had had dealings with them, and I thought — ”

He groaned. “The devil! I said! I said! For God’s sake, girl, did I ever say that you were to have dealings with them?”

“No, Sherry,” she replied, in a small voice. “But you did not tell me I must not, and what else could I do, when I owed all that money?”

He said sharply: “In the devil’s name, why could you not have told me? Hang it, I may have boxed your ears once or twice, and I dare say I might have done so again, but you can’t have been afraid of me!”

She got up quickly, colour surging into her cheeks. “Afraid of you, Sherry! Oh, never, never! But I felt so dreadfully! You do not understand! You have had such a shocking run of luck, and then those horrid horses behaved so badly at Newmarket — I would have done anything rather than ask you to pay my gaming debts!”

He stared at her. “Hero, you could not suppose that I would permit you to fall into the hands of those bloodsuckers?”

“But, Sherry, I am persuaded they are no such things! I am to pay back the principal out of my allowance, and — ”

“You little fool, they know very well you will do no such thing! They hope you will become more deeplydipped than ever, and fall more securely into their talons, until — Oh, the devil, where’s the use? Listen, brat — Never, whatever happens, have anything to do with moneylenders! It’s the surest road to ruin of them all! Yes, yes, I know I’ve been in their hands myself, but that’s another thing altogether — at least, it isn’t! I can tell you this: I’ll take precious good care I don’t fall into ’em again. Promise me, now!”

“I promise. I am very sorry! If I had known you would not like it — ”

“I fancy you did know, Kitten,” he said shrewdly. “It ain’t like you not to tell me what tricks you’ve been playing.”

She hung her head. “Well, I — well, I did not feel quite comfortable,” she confessed. “But that was mostly because I feared you would be cross with me for going to that house, and gaming for such high stakes.”

“So I am,” he said. “What were the stakes?”

“F-fifty pounds, Sherry,” she whispered.

He gave a whistle. “Were they, by God! What’s the figure?” He glanced down at the bowed head. “Come along, brat! I won’t eat you!”

“Oh, Sherry, I lost over five thousand pounds!” Hero blurted out.

His lordship preserved his control over himself with a strong effort. After a moment of inward struggle, he said: “Drawing the bustle with a vengeance, weren’t you? No, don’t cry! It might have been worse. But what possessed you, you little simpleton, to throw good money after bad? For I know very well you went a second night to that curst hell! Had you no more sense than to allow yourself to be plucked again? Good God! is gaming in your blood?”

“Oh, no, no, I am sure it is not, for I was never more uncomfortable in my life! Indeed, I wish I had not gone back, but I did it for the best, Sherry, and truly I thought you would have told me to if I could but have asked you!”

“Thought I — thought I — ?” gasped his lordship. “Have you gone mad, Hero?”

“But Sherry, you told me yourself, when your uncle Prosper had been teasing you, that the only thing to be done was to continue playing, because a run of bad luck could not last for ever, and — ” She broke off, alarmed by the expression on his face. “Oh, what have I said?” she cried.

“It’s what I have said!” replied Sherry. “No, no, don’t look like that, Kitten! It’s all my curst fault! Only I never dreamed you’d pay the least heed — Lord, I might have known, though! Kitten, don’t listen to me when I talk such nonsense!”

Her eyes were fixed on his face inquiringly. “But is it not true, after all, Sherry?” she asked. “I must say, it did not seem to be true, for I lost more heavily than ever, but I thought perhaps I had not persevered for long enough. Only I disliked it so very much that I gave it up in despair.”

“Well, thank God for that!” he said. “No, it’s not true — at least — dash it, I mean — ”

“I see!” she said helpfully, clasping his hand, and giving it a squeeze. “You mean it is the same as going to the Royal Saloon: you may do so, but I must not, on account of being a female.”

“Yes, that’s it. No, it ain’t, though!” said Sherry, his natural honesty asserting itself. “It ain’t true for either of us, brat, and if we don’t take care we shall find ourselves in the basket. Lord, I couldn’t tell you the fortunes which have changed hands over the gaming table! It’s what finished Brummell, and poor Tallerton, and that fellow Stoke prosed on about — fellow who hanged himself from a lamp post, or some such flummery!” He laughed, as Hero instinctively clutched his arm. “No, I don’t mean to follow his example, never fear! I’ll see Stoke tomorrow, and settle with Howard and Gibbs, and you need not think any more about it.”

“Yes, but I know it will mean that you must sell out those things Mr Stoke does not like you to sell, and — ”

“That’s my affair.”

“It isn’t, Sherry: it is mine! I must own, it would be a great relief not to be owing money to strangers, but if you are to pay for me I will pay it back to you out of my pin-money.”

He gave her cheek a rub. “Silly little puss! No, we shall be all right and tight, you’ll see! But there’s another thing I want to know! Who introduced Mrs Gillingham to you, brat?”

“Well, no one, Sherry. She introduced herself. She said she was a friend of yours.”

“Are you telling me that that harpy had the effrontery to call upon you?” he demanded.

“No, for she told me she had been in poor health, and so could not do so.”

“Ha!” ejaculated his lordship. “Very pretty, by Jove! She would not dare!”

“Oh, dear, I was afraid she could not be quite the thing when I saw the kind of company she kept!” Hero said remorsefully. “For when I went to her house there was no one there whom I was acquainted with, except Sir Matthew Brockenhurst, and Wilfred Yardford, and I know you do not like me to be upon terms with them.”

“They saw you there? Damnation!” muttered his lordship.

“They — they did not pay much heed to me, Sherry, and I only bowed very slightly, I assure you!”

“It’s not that. If Yarford saw you, it will be all over town! Nothing could be more unfortunate! We shall have all the old tabbies — yes, and not only the old ones! — spreading it about that you’re fast. I dare say Brock may keep his mouth shut: dash it, he calls himself a friend of mine! Though, by God, if he were half the friend he’d like me to think him he’d have had you out of that den, and escorted you home! Why, Gil or George, or even Ferdy, wouldn’t have hesitated! However, it’s too late to worry ourselves over that now! Where did you meet the Gillingham?”

“At the Pantheon Assembly Rooms, Sherry. There was a masquerade.”

“Whom were you with?”

“With my cousin, Theresa Hoby, and a party of her choosing.”

“I might have known! It was her doing, then?”

“No, indeed it was not! Mrs Gillingham is unknown to Theresa, though she did say that she thought her quite unexceptionable — as I did myself, Sherry, for she seemed so, you know!”

“Yes, I know!” he said grimly. “Tell me the whole!”

She obediently recounted all the circumstances of her meeting with Mrs Gillingham, and while he listened his brow grew darker and darker. By the time he had been made aware of the manner in which the lady had insinuated herself into his wife’s company, of the arts she had employed to inspire Hero with confidence, and of her readiness to permit her to punt on tick, he was looking so much like a thundercloud that Hero faltered in her recital, and could only gaze imploringly at him. She saw then that there was more than anger in his face, an intent expression in his eyes, which seemed to be frowning not so much at her as at something beyond her. She ventured to say: “I have done very wrong, but I did not mean to, Sherry.”

He paid no heed; he was looking at the clock. “I am going out,” he said abruptly. “I shall be back to dine with you, however.”

“Going where, Sherry?” she asked uneasily.

“Never mind that! There is something I have to do — and I’m not dining until I’ve done it!”

“Don’t go! So angry with me — !”

“I’m not angry with you.” He put his arm round her, and hugged her. “There! You are the most troublesome brat alive, but you don’t mean to be! I ought never — However, it’s done now!” He turned her face up, and kissed her cheek. “No, don’t cry while I’m away, for there is not the least occasion for it! Besides, it don’t suit you to have red eyes, and I don’t like it. Promise?”

She nodded, rather mistily smiling, and he left the room, ran down the stairs, shrugged himself into his greatcoat, caught up his hat and cane, and let himself out of the house, striding off in a southerly direction down the street.

He had not far to go to reach his goal, and he was fortunate enough to find that the quarry had not yet left the house, although a chair had been called for to carry him to an evening party, his valet informed the Viscount.

“You need not trouble to announce me,” Sherry said, mounting the stairs to the first floor. “I’ll announce myself!”

The valet, perceiving nothing unusual in this, bowed, and retired again to the nether regions. Sherry continued on his way to the front parlour, and entered without ceremony.

Sir Montagu, who was dressed for a ball, was adjusting the folds of his cravat in the mirror, and it was in this mirror that his eyes met Sherry’s. For an instant he did not move, then he turned, smiling urbanely, and stretching out his hand. “Why, Sherry!” he said caressingly. “You young rascal, you gave me quite a start!”

“Did I?” said Sherry, ignoring the outstretched hand.

“Indeed you did! But you are always a welcome visitor, as I hope you know! What fortune did you have at the races?”

“I’ve not come to talk to you about the races.”

Sir Montagu’s brows rose. He said in a chiding tone: “You sound out of reason cross, my dear boy! Now, what has happened to put you in one of your miffs?”

“This has happened!” Sherry said, a very ugly look in his eye. “I find that someone — someone, Revesby! — has been trying to do my wife a mischief while I’ve been away from home!”

“Well, that is certainly very shocking, Sherry, but what has it to do with me?”

“Spare yourself the trouble of playing off your tricks on me!” Sherry flung at him. “I’m not the fool you take me for! I know what ladybirds you fly with, and Charlotte Gillingham is one of them!”

“Sherry, what in the world — ”

“Who set the Gillingham on to lure my wife into her house? She never did so for her own ends! Very clever, Revesby! But not clever enough! My wife was present when you disowned your bastard brat! It was she who took the girl under her protection, and you knew it! Yes, and all the town knows it, but it was not she who split on you, my buck! It was some others whom you would not dare to be revenged on, I fancy! By God, I should have known with what a fellow I had to deal! But I know now, and you shall answer for it!”

Sir Montagu was looking a trifle pale, but he replied with perfect composure: “You are out of your senses my dear boy. I suspect that you are even a little foxed. I do not know what you are talking of.”

“Oh, yes, you do!” Sherry said fiercely. “I’m not a country wench to be fobbed off so easily! I knew whom I had to thank for this start as soon as I heard the Gillingham’s name mentioned! You fool, did you believe I should not? Why, what a flat you must think me!”

“I think you a hot-headed young man, my dear Sherry. Go and ask Mrs Gillingham if I had anything to do with Lady Sheringham’s visit to her house, if you do not believe me!”

“Where did you raise the money to pay her for playing your game?” Sherry asked insultingly. “Or does she do it for love of you?”

“Go home, Sherry: you are certainly a trifle bosky! I shall not allow you to pick a quarrel with me, you know.”

“Won’t you, by God!” Sherry said, and struck him across the face with the gloves he held clenched in his hand.

Sir Montagu’s pale cheek flamed under the blow, and he stepped back quickly, breathing rather hard, and glaring at his antagonist.

“Well?” Sherry said. “Well? What’s your choice? Will you have swords or pistols?”

“I repeat: I shall not permit you to pick a quarrel with me. You are drunk! If you say that I set Mrs Gillingham on to ruin Lady Sheringham, you will be made to look a fool. I deny it utterly, and she will do so also!”

Sherry stood looking at him for a moment with narrowed, contemptuous eyes. Then he turned away, and set his hand on the doorknob. “My cousin Ferdy told me you were a commoner, Revesby,” he said. His words were like the flick of a whiplash, and Revesby stiffened under them. “He don’t know the half of it!” Sherry said. “You’re cow-hearted — and I never guessed it!”

He waited for a minute, but Sir Montagu neither spoke nor moved. Sherry gave a scornful laugh, and passed out of the room.