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The recitation seemed endless; Malcourt's voice grew hoarse with the repetition; letter after letter was added to the apparently meaningless sequence on Shiela's pad. "Is there any sense in it so far?" asked Lady Tressilvain. "I cannot find any," said Shiela, striving with her pencil point to divide the string of letters into intelligible words.
I believe she was as astonished as I, but she will not admit it. "I don't know whether this is some sorry jest of yours not that Lady Tressilvain and her noble spouse are unwelcome but for Heaven's sake consider Wayward's feelings cooped up in camp with his ex-wife! It wasn't a very funny thing to do, Louis; but now that it's done you can come back and take care of the mess you've made.
The games were brutally short, savage, decisive; Tressilvain lost countenance after the fastest four rubbers he had ever played, and shot an exasperated glance at his wife, who was staring thoughtfully at her brother.
I've meant to, for years to rest myself. I've told you that often, haven't I, Shiela?" She nodded slowly, but her eyes reverted to the woman crouching in the chair, face buried in her brilliantly jewelled hands. Portlaw and Tressilvain were also staring at her. "You'd better go to bed, Helen," said Malcourt coolly; and turned on his heel, lighting a cigarette.
A little later the Tressilvains and Shiela started across the lawn to their own apartments, and Malcourt went with them to hold an umbrella over his wife. In the lower hall they separated with scarcely a word, but Malcourt detained his brother-in-law by a significant touch on the arm, and drew him into the library. "So you're leaving to-morrow?" he asked. "What?" said Tressilvain.
"The table moves or it doesn't. If it does you'll see it. I'll leave the explanation to you, William." "Have you ever seen it move?" asked Shiela, turning again to Malcourt. "Yes; so has my sister. It's not a trick." Lady Tressilvain looked bored, but answered Shiela's inquiry: "I've seen it often. Louis and I and my father used to do it. I don't know how it's done, and nobody else does.
What strange things do happen in cards and in the British Isles!" The dull flush deepened on Tressilvain's averted face, but Lady Tressilvain, unusually pale, watched her brother persistently during the general conversation that preceded dressing for dinner. After the guests had gone away to dress Portlaw looked inquiringly at Malcourt and said: "That misdeal may have been a slip.
Tressilvain stood absolutely still, his close-set eyes fairly starting from his face, in which not a vestige of colour now remained; and when at length he left the room he left so noiselessly that Malcourt did not hear him.
Lady Tressilvain cornered Shiela and badgered her and stared at her until she dared not lift her hot face or open her lips lest the pent resentment escape; Portlaw smoked a pipe a sure indication of smouldering wrath; Malcourt, at a desk, blew clouds of smoke from his cigarette and smilingly continued writing to his attorney: "This is the general idea for the document, and it's up to you to fix it up and make it legal, and have it ready for me when I come to town.
"Right O! But I say, Helen, I'm damned if I make out that brother of yours. Doesn't he live in the same house as his wife?" Lady Tressilvain sat listening to the uproar from the dogs as Malcourt left the garden.
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