point of view. He felt as little animus against Hargate as he had
felt against Spike on the occasion of their first meeting.
“Do you make much at this sort of game?” he asked.
Hargate was relieved. This was business-like.
“Pots,” he said, with some enthusiasm. “Pots. I tell you, if you’ll
stand in–”
“Bit risky, isn’t it?”
“Not a bit of it. An occasional accident–”
“I suppose you’d call me one?”
Hargate grinned.
“It must be pretty tough work,” said Jimmy. “You must have to use a
tremendous lot of self-restraint.”
Hargate sighed.
“That’s the worst of it,” he admitted, “the having to seem a mug at
the game. I’ve been patronized sometimes by young fools, who thought
they were teaching me, till I nearly forgot myself and showed them
what real billiards was.”
“There’s always some drawback to the learned professions,” said
Jimmy.
“But there’s a heap to make up for it in this one,” said Hargate.
“Well, look here, is it a deal? You’ll stand in–”
Jimmy shook his head.
“I guess not,” he said. “It’s good of you, but commercial
speculation never was in my line. I’m afraid you must count me out
of this.”
“What! You’re going to tell–?”
“No,” said Jimmy, “I’m not. I’m not a vigilance committee. I won’t
tell a soul.”
‘”Why, then–” began Hargate, relieved.
“Unless, of course,” Jimmy went on, “you play billiards again while
you’re here.”
Hargate stared.
“But, damn it, man, if I don’t, what’s the good–? Look here. What
am I to do if they ask me to play?”
“Give your wrist as an excuse.”
“My wrist?”
“Yes. You sprained it to-morrow after breakfast. It was bad luck. I
wonder how you came to do it. You didn’t sprain it much, but just
enough to stop you playing billiards.”
Hargate reflected.
“Understand?” said Jimmy.
“Oh, very well,” said Hargate, sullenly. “But,” he burst out, “if I
ever get a chance to get even with you–”
“You won’t,” said Jimmy. “Dismiss the rosy dream. Get even! You
don’t know me. There’s not a flaw in my armor. I’m a sort of modern
edition of the stainless knight. Tennyson drew Galahad from me. I
move through life with almost a sickening absence of sin. But hush!
We are observed. At least, we shall be in another minute. Somebody
is coming down the passage. You do understand, don’t you? Sprained
wrist is the watchword.”
The handle turned. It was Lord Dreever, back again, from his
interview.
“Hullo, Dreever,” said Jimmy. “We’ve missed you. Hargate has been
doing his best to amuse me with acrobatic tricks. But you’re too
reckless, Hargate, old man. Mark my words, one of these days you’ll
be spraining your wrist. You should be more careful. What, going?
Good-night. Pleasant fellow, Hargate,” he added, as the footsteps
retreated down, the passage. “Well, my lad, what’s the matter with
you? You look depressed.”
Lord Dreever flung himself on to the lounge, and groaned hollowly.
“Damn! Damn!! Damn.!!!” he observed.
His glassy eye met Jimmy’s, and wandered away again.
“What on earth’s the matter?” demanded Jimmy. “You go out of here
caroling like a song-bird, and you come back moaning like a lost
soul. What’s happened?”
“Give me a brandy-and-soda, Pitt, old man. There’s a good chap. I’m
in a fearful hole.”
“Why? What’s the matter?”
“I’m engaged,” groaned his lordship.
“Engaged! I wish you’d explain. What on earth’s wrong with you?
Don’t you want to be engaged? What’s your–?”
He broke off, as a sudden, awful suspicion dawned upon him. “Who is
she?” he cried.
He gripped the stricken peer’s shoulder, and shook it savagely.
Unfortunately, he selected the precise moment when the latter was in
the act of calming his quivering nerve-centers with a gulp of
brandy-and-soda, and for the space of some two minutes it seemed as
if the engagement would be broken off by the premature extinction of
the Dreever line. A long and painful fit of coughing, however, ended
with his lordship still alive and on the road to recovery.
He eyed Jimmy reproachfully, but Jimmy was in no mood for apologies.
“Who is she?” he kept demanding. “What’s her name?”
“Might have killed me!” grumbled the convalescent.