"It does—undoubtedly," he remarked. "Yes—mine’s the two of clubs. So you come, Delia." He broke off abruptly, his eyes fixed on the chair in which Staunton had been sitting. The next moment he stepped forward and pulled a card from the crack between the seat and the side. "The ace of diamonds," he said, slowly. "What is this card doing here? I don’t quite understand, Mr. Staunton. Ace low—low wins—and the ace of diamonds in your chair. I didn’t watch you cut—but did you not want to win?" "I—I—don’t know how it got there," stammered Staunton, foolishly. "I didn’t put it there." "Then one rather wonders who did," said Massingham, coldly. "It makes things a little difficult." For a moment or two there was silence: then Delia spoke. "On the contrary," she remarked, icily, "it seems to me to make them very easy. Good-night, Mr. Staunton. I shall not be at home to you in future." And when Hugh Massingham returned a few minutes later, having shown the speechless and semi-dazed Staunton the front door, his wife had gone to her room. "Undoubtedly one rather wonders who did," he murmured to himself with a faint smile. "But I think—I think, it was a good idea." *V* "It was a sort of infatuation, Hugh. I can’t explain it." With her arm through his—she hadn’t quite found her sea-legs yet—they were walking slowly up and down the promenade deck of the liner. He smiled gently. "Doesn’t need any explanation, darling," he answered. "It’s happened before: it will happen again. There are quite a number of Mr. James Stauntons at large—more’s the pity." "I know," she said. "I know that. But somehow he seemed different." "HE always does." For a while they continued their walk in silence. "Quite cured, little girl?" "Quite, absolutely." She squeezed his arm, "I think I was well on the way to being cured, before—before he cheated. And that finished it." "Ah!" Hugh stopped a moment to light a cigarette. "It simply defeats me how, after all he said, he could have done such a thing." "I wouldn’t let it worry you, sweetheart. The matter is of little importance. Halloa! What do these people want?" "Glad to see you about again, Mrs. Massingham." An officer in the Indian Army, returning from leave, and his wife came up. "Would you and your husband care to make up a four at bridge?" "Would you, dear?" She turned to him, and Massingham smiled. "You go, Delia. You’ll be able to find a fourth, and you’ve walked enough. I never play cards, myself." "What a refreshing individual," laughed the officer’s wife. "Does it bore you?" "Intensely," murmured Hugh. "And I’m such a bad player."