"Jasper Gaunt!" exclaimed the Viscount. "Sixty thousand pounds! Poor
Carnaby! Sixty thousand pounds payable on July sixteenth! Now the
fifteenth, my dear Bev, is the day of the race, and if he should lose,
it looks very much as though Carnaby would be ruined, Bev."
"Unless he marries 'the lovely heiress'!" added Barnabas.
"Hum!" said the Viscount, frowning. "I wish I'd never seen this
cursed paper, Bev!" and as he spoke he crumpled it up and threw it
into the great fireplace. "Where in the name of mischief did you get
it?"
"It was in the corner yonder," answered Barnabas. "I also found this."
And he laid a handsomely embossed coat button on the table.
"It has been wrenched off you will notice."
"Yes," nodded the Viscount, "torn off! Do you think--"
"I think," said Barnabas, putting the button back into his pocket,
"that Mistress Clemency's tears are accounted for--"
"By God, Beverley," said the Viscount, an ugly light in his eyes,
"if I thought that--!" and the hand upon the table became a fist.
"I think that Mistress Clemency is a match for any man--or brute,"
said Barnabas, and drew his hand from his pocket.
Now the Viscount's fist was opening and shutting convulsively, the
breath whistled between his teeth, he glanced towards the door, and
made as though he would spring to his feet; but in that moment came
a diversion, for Barnabas drew his hand from his pocket, and as he
did so, something white fluttered to the floor, close beside the
Viscount's chair. Both men saw it and both stooped to recover it,
but the Viscount, being nearer, picked it up, glanced at it, looked
at Barnabas with a knowing smile, glanced at it again, was arrested
by certain initials embroidered in one corner, stooped his head
suddenly, inhaling its subtle perfume, and so handed it back to
Barnabas, who took it with a word of thanks and thrust it into an
inner pocket, while the Viscount stared at him under his drawn brows.
But Barnabas, all unconscious, proceeded to cut himself another
slice of beef, offering to do the same for the Viscount.
"Thank you--no," said he.
"What--have you done, so soon?"
"Yes," said he, and thereafter sat watching Barnabas ply knife and
fork, who, presently catching his eye, smiled.
"Pray," said the Viscount after a while, "pray are you acquainted
with the Lady Cleone Meredith?"
"No," answered Barnabas. "I'll trouble you for the mustard, Dick."
"Have you ever met the Lady Cleone Meredith?"
"Never", answered Barnabas, innocent of eye.
Hereupon the Viscount rose up out of the chair and leaned across the
table.
"Sir," said he, "you are a most consummate liar!"
Hereupon Barnabas helped himself to the mustard with grave
deliberation, then, leaning back in his chair, he smiled up into the
Viscount's glowing eyes as politely and with as engaging an air as
might be.