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"Frightfully good of you, old chap," said Lord Dreever. "Sure you don't mind? I do bar walking. Right-ho! You keep straight on." He sat down in the tonneau by his aunt's side. The last Jimmy saw was a hasty vision of him engaged in earnest conversation with Lady Julia. He did not seem to be enjoying himself.
The conversation, becoming general with the fish, was not of a kind to remove from his mind the impression made by the sight of the gems. It turned on burglary. Lord Dreever began it. "Oh, I say," he said, "I forgot to tell you, Aunt Julia, Number Six was burgled the other night." Number 6a, Eaton Square, was the family's London house. "Burgled!" cried Sir Thomas.
What had he done to deserve this? He felt as a toil-worn lion might feel if some antelope, instead of making its customary bee-line for the horizon, were to trot up and insert its head between his jaws. "I I shouldn't mind being shown the idea," he said. He listened attentively while Lord Dreever explained at some length the principles that govern the game of picquet.
The detective looked over his shoulder. McEachern glared dumbly. This was the crowning blow, that there should be spectators of his predicament. Jimmy strolled into the room. "Dreever told me you were in here," he said to McEachern. "Can you spare me a Hullo!" The detective had pocketed his revolver at the first sound of the handle.
When my Aunt Julia married Sir Thomas, the whole frightful show was pretty well in pawn. So, you see how it is." "Ever think of work?" asked Jimmy. "Work?" said Lord Dreever, reflectively. "Well, you know, I shouldn't mind work, only I'm dashed if I can see what I could do. I shouldn't know how. Nowadays, you want a fearful specialized education, and so on.
His face was purple. To Molly's lively imagination, his eyes appeared to move slowly out of his head, like a snail's. From the back of his throat came strange noises. "S-s-so " he stammered. He gulped, and tried again. "So this," he said, "so this ! So that was what was in that letter, eh?" Lord Dreever, a limp bundle against the banisters, smiled weakly. "Eh?" yelled Sir Thomas.
The South Sea Bubble absorbed two hundred thousand pounds of good Dreever money, and the remainder of the family fortune was squandered to the ultimate penny by the sportive gentleman who held the title in the days of the Regency, when Watier's and the Cocoa Tree were in their prime, and fortunes had a habit of disappearing in a single evening.
Only, remember I warned you." "I'll bear it in mind. By the way, before we start, care to make it a sovereign a hundred?" Lord Dreever could not afford to play picquet for a sovereign a hundred, or, indeed, to play picquet for money at all; but, after his adversary's innuendo, it was impossible for a young gentleman of spirit to admit the humiliating fact. He nodded.
Then, he turned to Sir Thomas, with his hands thrust into his pockets. Over the knight's head, he could see the folds of the curtain quivering gently, as if stirred by some zephyr. Evidently, the drama of the situation was not lost on Hildebrand Spencer, twelfth Earl of Dreever. Nor was it lost on Jimmy. This was precisely the sort of situation that appealed to him.
McEachern cleared his throat, and began again. "You shouldn't decide a question like that too hastily, my dear." "I didn't not too hastily for Lord Dreever, at any rate, poor dear." "It was in your power," said Mr. McEachern portentously, "to make a man happy " "I did," said Molly, bitterly. "You should have seen his face light up.
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