English fiction -- 20th century; Forgery -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction; Mystery and detective stories
Audrey was just in the mood to be reckless of consequences, for she
had quite made up her mind not to be the figure-head of this
establishment any longer. The scenes which she had gone through with
the young Angmerings and with Mr. Candover had left their traces upon
her outward demeanour. She was flushed, excited, her mouth was set in
a fashion which caused the clever and observant Durley Diggs to note
her every movement, her every look, from where he stood behind Sir
Harry Archdale.
“I’ve been most awfully unlucky, Madame Rocada,” said the young
baronet with the utmost good humour, as he shook hands with her.
“Why do you play then, if you always lose?” she asked, with surprising
frankness.
“Well, really, Madame, your house is such a pleasant one, and one
enjoys oneself so much here,” he answered, after a moment’s pause,
“that, when one sees other people playing, one must play too.”
“I should not, if I found that I always lost,” said Audrey, with more
and more point, as she noticed that Durley Diggs was moving about
uneasily behind Sir Harry. “At least, I should not play in the same
house or with the same people, when I found myself always losing.”
“By Jove, I believe your plan would be the wisest,” answered Sir
Harry, after another bewildered pause, during which he had been struck
by the fact that the lady was not speaking in jest, as he had at first
supposed, but in deadly earnest, with firm lips and grave eyes.
“Who did you play with?” she again asked abruptly.
But at that point Durley Diggs came forward and held out his hand,
with the conventional murmurs about “a pleasant evening”.
“Have you lost too?” asked Audrey sharply, speaking with more
abruptness than she was aware of.
The secretary suddenly changed colour, hesitated a moment, and then
answered in so reserved and strange a manner that Audrey, who had put
her question in all good faith, had her suspicions roused at once.
“I--I--I lost at first, but--but on the whole evening, I think I came
out fairly well,” he said, with a curious half-look, veiled and
cautious, at the young man by his side.
Sir Harry laughed.
“Well,” said he, “if you did as well all round----”
Then he checked himself, as Diggs looked up with an angry eye.
“Fortune of war, fortune of war!” laughed Sir Harry, as he again
turned to his hostess. “Madame Rocada----”
But Audrey interrupted him sharply.
“Don’t call me by that name,” said she with decision. “It is not mine;
somebody suggested it as a name to use in business, but I hate it and
do not mean to be called by it any longer.”
“What am I to call you then? Just Madame?” said the young man, rather
taken aback by the anger and petulance she showed.
For one moment she hesitated, regretting already that she had said so
much. Then recovering herself a little, she answered:--
“Well, there will be no need to call me anything but just ‘Madame’
during the few days I shall remain here.”
“Few days! Oh, I hope you are not going away?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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