Adrien Leroy. Charles Garvice

close run, eh, Shelton?" laughed Leroy as he took the notes from an open drawer. "Had they played the knave we should have won. Time for another round?"

      "Not I," replied his friend, with a regretful shake of his head. "I'm due at Lady Martingdale's."

      "Picture galleries again?" laughed Standon, who knew that lady's weaknesses.

      "Yes," Shelton confessed, "and with Miss Martingdale too."

      The others laughed significantly.

      "Say no more, Mortimer," begged Lord Standon, with mock grief. "Your days are numbered. Already I see myself enacting the part of chief mourner--I should say, best man--if you will allow me."

      Shelton rose, laughing good-humouredly.

      "Thanks, I'll remember--when it comes to that!"

      "You're incorrigible, Stan," said Leroy, as his guests were taking their leave. "You'd better settle down yourself first, and leave Shelton alone."

      When they had all gone, the host stood looking at the empty chairs. They seemed, as it were, typical of the weary, empty hours of his life, and for the first time a wholesome distaste of it all swept over him. Day in, day out, an everlasting whirl--wherein he and his companions turned night into day and spent their lives in a hollow round of gaiety, in which scandal, cards, women and wine were chief features. And, at the end! What would be the end?

      Then he shook himself from his unaccustomed reverie; Adrien Leroy, the popular idol of fashionable society, was not given long to introspection.

      "What next?" he asked himself.

      It was Norgate who answered the unspoken query, by announcing that the motor was at the door.

      As Adrien descended the stairs, Jasper Vermont entered the hall below him.

      "Ah, just in time!" he said with his amicable smile. "You're off to the Park, I suppose?"

      "I don't know yet," returned Adrien evasively. "What do you think of the motor?"

      "Worthy even of Adrien Leroy," replied Jasper, with the faintest suspicion of a sneer, which, however, passed unperceived by his friend. "By the way," he continued, as they walked to the door together, "I have just left Ada in tears, poor girl; repentance followed closely on repletion. She vows solemnly to refrain from onions and patchouli for the future, and begs for the return of your favour."

      Leroy smiled gravely at his companion's flippant tones.

      "You make an eloquent advocate; but there's little need for pity in her case; her tastes are natural to her class. I was to blame for not realising it before; but she'll be well set up for the future," he said, and forthwith dismissed the subject from his mind. "But Jasper, what of this chestnut entered the steeplechase?"

      Vermont's dark, restless eyes dropped for a moment; then he said lightly:

      "Do you mean that Yorkshire screw? Oh, he is all right! Can't run the course, I should say, let alone the last rise. Nothing can touch the roan. If I weren't a beggar, I'd cover 'King Cole's' back with guineas."

      "Do it for me," said Leroy carelessly, as he settled into the waiting Daimler, which was his latest purchase.

      "What, another thousand?" asked Jasper almost eagerly.

      "Two, if you like," said his friend, as the chauffeur started the car, and with a smile to Vermont he took his departure.

      Vermont stood looking after him, his gaze almost still in its fixity; then he turned and passed up the stairs. In the dining-room he found Norgate, clearing away the cards and glasses, in no very amiable humour.

      "Has there been a luncheon party?" queried Mr. Vermont.

      "Yes, sir," answered Norgate aggrievedly; "Mr. Shelton, Lord Standon and Mr. Paxhorn."

      "And bridge?" murmured Mr. Vermont inquiringly.

      "Yes, sir; and from what I heard, I believe Mr. Leroy lost."

      "Ah," commented the other softly, "I fear Mr. Leroy always does lose, doesn't he?"

      "He's made me lose my time to-day with his fads and fancies," grumbled Norgate, removing the folding card-table; "what with bringing in street wenches at one o'clock in the morning; and they mustn't be disturbed, if you please."

      Jasper Vermont was instantly on the alert. He was not above encouraging a servant to gossip, and, although Norgate was not given to err in this direction as a rule, upon the present occasion his grievance got the better of him, and Vermont was soon in possession of such slight facts as could be gleaned.