"You learn rapidly. But I'd better say in excuse that I didn't think I'd involved you in a very serious risk. He hasn't your eyes and hands--one couldn't expect it. You don't need pick-me-ups in the morning, do you?" Lisle was slightly embarrassed. This girl's knowledge of life was too extensive, and he would have preferred that she should exhibit it to somebody else. "Well," she concluded as they approached the tea-table, "my thanks are yours, even if you don't value them." "What do you expect me to say?" he asked, regarding her with some amusement and appreciation. She was alluringly pretty in her rather elaborate light dress. "Yes," she smiled mockingly, disregarding his question; "these things become me better than the tweeds, don't they? They make one look nice and soft and fluffy; but that's deceptive. You see, I can scratch; in fact, I felt I could have scratched Batley badly if I'd got the chance. There's another hint for you--make what you like of it." Then with a laugh she swung round and left him, puzzled. CHAPTER XI CRESTWICK GIVES TROUBLE The little room in Marple's house, where the Crestwicks were staying, was hot and partly filled with cigar smoke which drifted in filmy streaks athwart the light of the green-shaded hanging-lamp. Lisle sat beneath the lamp, studying the cards in his hand, until he leaned back in his chair and flung a glance about the table. There were no counters on it, but Gladwyne had just noted something in a little book and was waiting with a languid smile upon his handsome face. Next to him sat Batley, looking thoughtful; and Crestwick sat opposite Lisle, eager and unhealthily flushed. His forehead showed damp in the lamplight and there was an unpleasant glitter in his eyes. It was close on to midnight and luck had gone hard against him during the past hour, half of which Lisle had spent in his company. This had cost Lisle more money than he was willing to part with. "It's getting late," he said with a yawn. "After this hand, I'll drop out; I dare say one of the other two will take my place. Crestwick, I believe your sister and Miss Leslie will be waiting. You're going with them, aren't you?" The lad, turning in his chair, reached toward a near-by table on which there were bottles and siphons, and took a glass from it. He had been invited to join a shooting party at a house in the neighborhood and was to spend the night there. "Oh!" he exclaimed with some irritation; "Bella's always in such an unreasonable hurry. The others can't be going yet. I think I hear Flo Marple singing." A voice from somewhere below reached them through the open door. It was a good voice, but the words were a silly jingle and the humor in them could not be considered delicate. Lisle, glancing at Gladwyne, noticed his slight frown, but one of the two young men lounging by the second table watching the game hummed the refrain with an appreciative smile upon his heavy and somewhat fatuous face.