was a brilliant one, but Bertrand did not immediately
straighten himself as before. He remained leaning across the table, as if
he watched the effect of his skill.

There was a brief pause before very carefully he laid his cue upon the
cloth and began to raise himself, slowly, with infinite caution, using
both hands.

"No," he said, speaking jerkily, in a rapid undertone, as if to himself.
"The gods--are no more--on my side."

A sharp gasp escaped him. He stood up, and they saw the sweat running
down his forehead. "Will you--excuse me for a moment?" he said. "I
have--forgotten _quelque chose_."

He turned towards Chris with punctilious courtesy, clicked his heels
together, bowed, and walked stiffly from the room.

CHAPTER XII

A MAN OF HONOUR

An amazed silence followed his exit; then, in a quick whisper, Chris
spoke.

"He isn't well. I'm sure he isn't well. Did you see--his face--when he
stood up?"

She turned with the words as if she would go after him, but Max checked
her sharply. "No, you stay here. I'm going."

She paused irresolute. "Let me come too."

"Don't be silly," said Max. He frowned at her scared face for a moment,
then smiled abruptly. "Don't be silly!" he said again. He passed down the
room with what seemed to her maddening deliberation, opened the door, and
went quietly out.

Aunt Philippa was still busy with her correspondence in the drawing-room.
She glanced up as he went through. "Can you tell me what time the evening
post goes out? I have just asked M. Bertrand, but he did not see fit to
answer me."

"Then he couldn't have heard you," said Max. "The post goes out at
nine-thirty."

"Ah! Then perhaps you would wait a moment while I direct this envelope,
and you can then give it to a servant with orders to take it to the
post-office at once."

Max drew his red brows together and waited.

The scratching of Aunt Philippa's pen filled in the pause. She directed
her envelope, blotted it with care, stamped it with precision, finally
handed it to her nephew with the request, "Please remember that it is
important."

Max received it with reverence. "I shall treat it with the utmost
veneration," he said. He knew that his aunt had a strong dislike for him,
and he fostered it with much enjoyment upon every possible occasion.

He slipped the letter into his pocket as he left the room and promptly
dismissed it from his mind.

He turned aside into the dining-room, rummaged for bran