not
such
a bet,” said Alistair Ashton. “The man was drunk and didn’t know what he was doing.”
The marquess laughed. “What a marvellous day. I’ll always remember it. Johnnie Robey and Alistair Ashton preaching morality.”
Lord Robey’s thin, weak face looked suddenly grim. He put his hand in his pocket and drew out an ace of spades and held the card up. “I took this as a souvenir of the game, Handley,” he said, staring at the marquess and running his thumb gently over the card. “See! Little pinpricks. Marked cards. And the porter at The Club handed this to me last night. Said you’d dropped it. It’s a bottle of chloral. So what Alistair and I want to know is why you marked the cards and why you drugged Strathairn?”
The marquess looked quickly around. “Nonsense!” he said. “It was just a bit of a joke.” His mind worked rapidly. Maggie Macleod would hang. No one would ever hear of his part in the marriage.
“I don’t see what you’re both looking so solemn for,” he laughed. “You don’t think for a minute that I made Strathairn go through with it.”
Alistair Ashton looked at the marquess thoughtfully. “I hope you didn’t,” he said. “But I’ll tell you one thing, Handley. Johnnie and me, well, we’ve decided we won’t be seeing you for a bit.”
“Suit yourselves,” said the marquess.
“And, furthermore,” put in Lord Robey, “I think itwould be a good idea if you resigned your membership of The Club.”
The wind howled and rattled along the street outside and a shop sign creaked mournfully as it swung to and fro.
The marquess ducked his head before a greenish mirror in the corner and adjusted his silk hat.
“Look here you two,” he said over his shoulder. “Before you start lecturing me on morals and demanding my resignation from The Club, just think on this. You have been my guests many times at a certain charming little house in Renfield Street. I am sure Madame Dupont remembers you both vividly. Now, you would not like your delightful wives to know what you get up to in that establishment?”
“Bastard,” said Lord Robey. “You have no proof.”
“On the contrary, I have plenty of proof. You have no idea how these girls will talk for a few shillings. It would amuse them to call on your wives and families.”
The marquess studied their faces and smiled. He swung round and held out his hand. “My property, I think, my
very
dear boy,” grinned the marquess, taking the ace of spades and the bottle of chloral from Lord Robey’s nerveless fingers.
“Run along, little boys,” mocked the marquess. “And before you think of cutting me in public, do remember that I enjoy revenge. Witness the downfall of the priggish Strathairn. Ah, sweet revenge. Quite my favourite pastime, I assure you…”
Mr. Farquharson edged his plump figure into the space next to the earl and whispered, “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to leave for a bit? They say the jury’s going to be a long while.”
The earl shook his head, his eyes straying to where Maggie sat in the dock. There was a faint sheen of tears in her eyes. The blustery wind which howled about the building wasmaking the courtroom full of people restless.
“Poor thing,” said a woman behind the earl. “She looks as if she’s jist realized she’s for the lang drop. I sweer, she didnae do it. My mither’s neighbour, Aggie Benson, said she kenned auld Macleod and it waud be jist like the auld scunner tae take the poison hisself just to spite folks.”
The wait seemed endless. “Maybe they’ll not be deciding anything until tomorrow,” said Mr. Farquharson in a louder voice. Like everyone else in the court, he was getting tired of whispering.
Perhaps it was Maggie Macleod herself who was causing the restless atmosphere as well as the change in the weather. When she had appeared numb and lifeless, it had been easy for the crowd to enjoy the drama of the court without considering that a young girl’s
such
a bet,” said Alistair Ashton. “The man was drunk and didn’t know what he was doing.”
The marquess laughed. “What a marvellous day. I’ll always remember it. Johnnie Robey and Alistair Ashton preaching morality.”
Lord Robey’s thin, weak face looked suddenly grim. He put his hand in his pocket and drew out an ace of spades and held the card up. “I took this as a souvenir of the game, Handley,” he said, staring at the marquess and running his thumb gently over the card. “See! Little pinpricks. Marked cards. And the porter at The Club handed this to me last night. Said you’d dropped it. It’s a bottle of chloral. So what Alistair and I want to know is why you marked the cards and why you drugged Strathairn?”
The marquess looked quickly around. “Nonsense!” he said. “It was just a bit of a joke.” His mind worked rapidly. Maggie Macleod would hang. No one would ever hear of his part in the marriage.
“I don’t see what you’re both looking so solemn for,” he laughed. “You don’t think for a minute that I made Strathairn go through with it.”
Alistair Ashton looked at the marquess thoughtfully. “I hope you didn’t,” he said. “But I’ll tell you one thing, Handley. Johnnie and me, well, we’ve decided we won’t be seeing you for a bit.”
“Suit yourselves,” said the marquess.
“And, furthermore,” put in Lord Robey, “I think itwould be a good idea if you resigned your membership of The Club.”
The wind howled and rattled along the street outside and a shop sign creaked mournfully as it swung to and fro.
The marquess ducked his head before a greenish mirror in the corner and adjusted his silk hat.
“Look here you two,” he said over his shoulder. “Before you start lecturing me on morals and demanding my resignation from The Club, just think on this. You have been my guests many times at a certain charming little house in Renfield Street. I am sure Madame Dupont remembers you both vividly. Now, you would not like your delightful wives to know what you get up to in that establishment?”
“Bastard,” said Lord Robey. “You have no proof.”
“On the contrary, I have plenty of proof. You have no idea how these girls will talk for a few shillings. It would amuse them to call on your wives and families.”
The marquess studied their faces and smiled. He swung round and held out his hand. “My property, I think, my
very
dear boy,” grinned the marquess, taking the ace of spades and the bottle of chloral from Lord Robey’s nerveless fingers.
“Run along, little boys,” mocked the marquess. “And before you think of cutting me in public, do remember that I enjoy revenge. Witness the downfall of the priggish Strathairn. Ah, sweet revenge. Quite my favourite pastime, I assure you…”
Mr. Farquharson edged his plump figure into the space next to the earl and whispered, “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to leave for a bit? They say the jury’s going to be a long while.”
The earl shook his head, his eyes straying to where Maggie sat in the dock. There was a faint sheen of tears in her eyes. The blustery wind which howled about the building wasmaking the courtroom full of people restless.
“Poor thing,” said a woman behind the earl. “She looks as if she’s jist realized she’s for the lang drop. I sweer, she didnae do it. My mither’s neighbour, Aggie Benson, said she kenned auld Macleod and it waud be jist like the auld scunner tae take the poison hisself just to spite folks.”
The wait seemed endless. “Maybe they’ll not be deciding anything until tomorrow,” said Mr. Farquharson in a louder voice. Like everyone else in the court, he was getting tired of whispering.
Perhaps it was Maggie Macleod herself who was causing the restless atmosphere as well as the change in the weather. When she had appeared numb and lifeless, it had been easy for the crowd to enjoy the drama of the court without considering that a young girl’s
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