oom for a moment was in darkness. There was a
somewhat curious silence. The Princess was breathing softly but
quickly. When at last the lamp burned up again, every one glanced
furtively toward the young man who was leaning back in his chair with
his eyes fixed absently upon the table.

"Well, what is it to be?" Forrest asked, reseating himself. "One more
rubber or bed?"

"I've lost a good deal more than I care to," Cecil remarked in a
somewhat unnatural tone, "but I say another brandy and soda, and one
more rubber. There are some sandwiches behind you, Engleton."

"Thank you," Engleton answered without looking up. "I am not hungry."

The Princess took up a fresh pack of cards, and let them fall idly
through her fingers. Then she took a cigarette from the gold case which
hung from her chatelaine, and lit it.

"One more rubber, then," she said. "After that we will go to bed."

The others came toward the table, and the Princess threw down the
cards. They all three cut. Engleton, however, did not move.

"I think," he said, "that you did not quite understand me. I said that
I did not care to play any more."

"Three against one," the Princess remarked lightly.

"Why not play cut-throat, then?" Engleton remarked. "It would be an
excellent arrangement."

"Why so?" Forrest asked.

"Because you could rob one another," Engleton said. "It would be
interesting to watch."

A few seconds intense silence followed Engleton's words. It was the
Princess who spoke first. Her tone was composed but chilly. She looked
toward Engleton with steady eyes.

"My dear Lord Ronald," she said, "is this a joke? I am afraid my sense
of humour grows a little dull at this hour of the morning."

"It was not meant for a joke," Engleton said. "My words were spoken in
earnest."

The Princess, without any absolute movement, seemed suddenly to become
more erect. One forgot her rouge, her blackened eyebrows, her powdered
cheeks. It was the great lady who looked at Engleton.

"Are we to take this, Lord Ronald," she asked, "as a serious
accusation?"

"You can take it for what it is, madam," Engleton answered--"the truth."

Cecil de la Borne rose to his feet and leaned across the table. His
cheeks were as pale as death. His voice was shaking.

"I am your host, Engleton," he said, "and I demand an explanation of
what you have said. Your accusation is absurd. You must be drunk or out
of your senses."

"I am neither drunk nor out of my senses