"Indeed, I do not care for it." "Ye take pleasure in evading my company and in refusing my requests!" said Marius fiercely, and, picking up the Countess's ticket and the Countess's letter, he left the room with an angry step. Susannah Chressham remained in a reflective attitude. She was not thinking of Marius--indeed, she had hardly noticed the manner of his departure. CHAPTER V SIR FRANCIS INTERVENES The St. James's coffee-house was nearly empty; the candles had burnt to their sockets and only a sickly lamplight revealed the three gentlemen who sat together at a table scattered with cards. They had finished playing. One who had lost rose up without a word and reached down his hat and coat from the shining wall. Rose Lyndwood, a second loser, lifted his eyes to glance at him. A clock without struck three. A sleepy drawer was slowly clearing some of the other tables. The place, but a little while since so noisy, had an extraordinarily dreary look. "Good-night," said Lord Sandys. He put on his hat and left the room with a firm step. The Earl nodded. Cathcart, the winner, laughed. "Sandys looks dashed," he remarked. "Probably ruined," remarked my lord. A fresh gust of air rushed in and stirred for a second the stale, smoke-laden atmosphere; then the door was closed again, and idle, heavy silence was unbroken. The Earl pushed aside the backgammon board and the glasses, and leant his elbow on the table. He sat with his back to the door and opposite the shuttered window. He took his chin in his hand and stared at these blank shutters through half-closed eyes. He wore pearl-colour; at his throat was a large buckle of brilliants that sparkled with restless hues; his hair and his dress were tumbled, his face disfigured with a lazy expression of sneering distaste. At the corner of his mouth was the fantastic patch cut into the shape of a bat. "You should have gone to Kensington to-night," said Cathcart, who was leaning back and smoking. "I'll wager you'll hear of it." "Why should I have been there?" asked the Earl, without moving his eyes or changing his expression. "You know, 'twas a Cabinet meeting, or some such foolery. But I am no agent of the Government." "Why, then, 'tis no matter of yours," said Lord Lyndwood in the same tone. "But something of yours," answered the other. "Lud, how you throw away your chances! Newcastle said you might have been Chancellor or a Secretary of State by now had you cared. Don't that fire you?" He laughed, then yawned. "Why should I trouble about their soiled politics?" asked my lord indifferently. "What comes my way I'll see to. But what is this all about? A parcel of niggers on the coast of Coromandel--Coromandel! Good Lord!" Cathcart laughed again. "I see you have got in your man." "My man?" "Francis Boyle--to be Lord of the Bedchamber. I saw it to-day."