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She rose from her seat, moved quickly to the side-table, and, turning her back, slipped the fatal card dexterously into the interior of a cheese sandwich. Mrs. Rastall-Retford, absorbed, did not notice for an instant. Then she gave tongue. "What are you doing, Miss Hendrie?" Eve was breathing quickly. "I I thought that Mr. Rayner might like a sandwich." She was at his elbow with the plate.
If all his hands were going to be as strong as this first one he saw that there was disaster ahead. He could not help winning. Mrs. Rastall-Retford, who had dealt the first hand, made a most improper diamond declaration.
And he had grinned a cheerful, affectionate grin, and beamed on her without a break till bedtime. Before coming as companion to Mrs. Rastall-Retford Eve had been governess to Hildebrand, aged six, the son of a Mrs. Elphinstone. It had been, on the whole, a comfortable situation. She had not liked Mrs.
Peter could always do with a sandwich or two these days. But he was prepared to abandon them joyfully if his hostess would waive bridge for this particular evening. It was not to be. In the drawing-room Mrs. Rastall-Retford came out of her trance and called imperiously for the cards.
And all these unpleasantnesses were occurring to Peter simultaneously. It is highly creditable to him that the last should completely have outweighed the others. He was generally alone. Mr. Rastall-Retford, who would have been better than nothing as a companion, was a man who enjoyed solitude. He was a confirmed vanisher.
It seemed to him now that the monotony of the Sargasso Sea had been greatly exaggerated. Nemesis was certainly giving Peter his due. He had wormed his way into the Rastall-Retford home-circle by grossly deceitful means. The moment he heard that Eve had gone to live with Mrs.
Eve went to the fire and warmed her hands. "Well?" she said, dispiritedly. She was feeling nervous and ill. Mrs. Rastall-Retford had been in one of her more truculent moods all day, and for the first time Eve had the sensation of being thoroughly beaten. She dreaded the long hours to bedtime. The thought that there might be bridge after dinner made her feel physically ill.
Eve was always her partner; and to-night she devoutly hoped that her employer would elect to rest. She always played badly with Mrs. Rastall-Retford, through sheer nervousness. Once she had revoked, and there had been a terrible moment and much subsequent recrimination. Peter looked at her curiously. "You're pale to-night," he said. "I have a headache." "H'm! How is our hostess? Fair? Or stormy?"
Could she be meaning ? Or was it a subtle insult? Who could say? At any rate it was a sandwich, and he seized it, without prejudice. "I hope at least you have had the sense to remember that Mr. Rayner is a vegetarian, Miss Hendrie," said Mrs. Rastall-Retford. "That is not a chicken sandwich?" "No," said Eve; "it is not a chicken sandwich." Peter beamed gratefully.
He had understood her allusion to bridge, having been privileged several times during his stay to see his hostess play that game, and he hoped that there would be no bridge to-night. And this was unselfish of him, for bridge meant sandwiches. At the close of play Mrs. Rastall-Retford would take one sandwich from each plate, drink a thimbleful of weak whisky and water, and retire.
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