While Drake had been absent, Lady Luce had stood, apparently listening
with profound attention and sympathy, but the movement of her fan almost
gave her away, for it grew rapid now and again, and when Lord Turfleigh
came up beside her, his hawklike eyes glancing sharply, like those of a
bird of prey, from their fat rims, she shot an angry and unfilial glance
at him.
"Where's Drake?" he asked, lowering his thick voice.
"Up there in that gallery somewhere; gone to pay compliments to that
fiddler fellow who is playing now."
"Gad!" said his lordship, with a stare of contempt at the rapt audience.
"What the devil does he want with the 'Dead March in Saul,' or whatever
it is, in the middle of a dance. Always thought he was mad! Has he
spoken, said anything?"
He lowered his voice still more, and eyed her eagerly.
She shook her head slightly by way of answer, and the coarse face
reddened.
"Curse me, if I can understand it--or you," he said, his hand tugging
at his dyed mustache. "You told me, God knows how long ago, that he was
'on' again; then he bolts--disappears."
"Do you want all these people to hear you?" she asked, her eyes hidden
by her slowly moving fan.
Her father had been several times to the refreshment buffet, and had
"lowered"--as he would have put it--the best part of a bottle of
champagne, and was a little off the guard which he usually maintained so
carefully.
"They can't hear. I'm not shouting. And you always evade me. You're not
behaving well, Luce. Dash it all! I've reason to be anxious! This match
means a good deal to me in the present state of our finances!"
"Hush!" she whispered warningly. "I can't explain now. I don't
understand it myself; but I've seen enough to know that I should only
lose him altogether if I tried to force him. You know him, or ought to
do so! Did you ever get anything from Drake by driving him? He had no
opportunity of speaking, of explaining."
"By gad! I don't understand it!" he muttered. "Either you're engaged to
him or you're not. You led me to believe that the match was on
again----"
The fan closed with a snap, and her blue eyes flashed at him with bitter
scorn.
"Hadn't you better leave me to play the game?" she asked. "Or perhaps
you think you can play it better than I can? If so----The man has
stopped; Drake will be down again. I don't want him to see us talking.
Go--and get some more champagne."