The sun had risen cold and bright when Adrien Leroy awoke, and his first
question was for the child, Jessica. But here a surprise awaited him,
for the bird had flown. Norgate and the housekeeper had found the room
tenantless. For some inexplicable reasons of her own she must have
stolen noiselessly out while the other occupants of the flat were still
sleeping.
Adrien made no comment, but proceeded to undergo the labours of the
toilet. A cold bath is an excellent tonic; and when Leroy entered the
dining-room his calm face bore no traces of his comparatively sleepless
night. He sat down to breakfast, waited on by the attentive Norgate, and
turned over the heap of letters which lay beside his plate. During his
leisured meal he opened them. They were principally invitations, though
a few of them were bills--big sums, many of them, for horses,
dinner-parties, supper-parties, jewellery, flowers--all the
hundred-and-one trifles which were as necessary to a man in his position
as light and air.
With a gesture of weariness, he pushed the pile from him, and throwing
them carelessly into the drawer of a buhl cabinet, left them until such
time as Jasper Vermont could attend to them.
"Where do I dine to-night?" he asked presently.
"At the Marquis of Heathcotes', sir--at eight," replied Norgate, who
knew his master's engagements better than did the young man himself.
Leroy nodded absently.
"Order the new motor for four o'clock. I want to see how it goes."
"Yes, sir." The confidential servant coughed and looked slightly
embarrassed. "I may mention, sir, that Perrier has sent in his account
for the costumes made for the Fancy Dress Carnival at Prince's."
"Refer him to Mr. Vermont," was the calm reply. "I have sir, several
times, but he wants to see you personally. It's a matter of
discount----"
"Send him to Mr. Vermont. I know nothing of his bill or his discount.
Surely you know that, Norgate," Leroy interrupted impatiently.
The discreet Norgate retreated silently; and ten minutes later Leroy
started for his morning canter in the Row. Here, meeting and chatting
with his numerous friends, the morning passed quickly enough; and when
Leroy returned to his chambers again, Norgate was putting the finishing
touches to the table already set for lunch.
"Covers for four?" said his master, as he entered the room. "Who is
coming?"
"Mr. Shelton, Lord Standon, and Mr. Paxhorn, sir."
"Ah, yes, to be sure," replied the host, who had completely forgotten
the invitation. "I thought it was for to-morrow."
The loud hoot of a motor outside told him that his visitors were
arriving; and in another moment the door was flung open, and Mortimer
Shelton, followed by Lord Standon, entered the room.
"Well, Leroy, old man," exclaimed the former cheerily, as they shook
hands, "you look as fresh as if you had awoke with the dawn!"
"Nothing new in that," said Lord Standon, laughing. "Nothing upsets
Leroy."
"Except a bad dinner," murmured Algernon Paxhorn, the fourth member of
the party, who had just entered the room. He was the latest literary
lion, and a fast friend--in more senses than one--of Adrien and the
members of his set.
With jest and laughter they took their places at the table.
"Well, how's the steeplechase going?" asked Leroy, turning to Shelton.
"What do you think of my 'King Cole'? Does he stand a chance?"
"A chance!" echoed all three.
"The odds are four to one on him, and few takers," announced Shelton.
Lord Standon set down his glass.
"Ah, that was yesterday," he said. "I was there later, and the odds were
being lifted. You can lay what you like on him, my dear fellow, and you
will have no difficulty in finding takers."
"Oh!" commented Adrien, almost listlessly. "Something better in the
field, I suppose? I thought the roan was not to be touched."
"And I, also," said Mortimer Shelton; "I can't understand it! The only
new entry was a weedy chestnut, listed by a Yorkshireman in the
afternoon. 'Holdfast' they call him."
"He'll require more hustling than holding," returned Paxhorn
sarcastically.
Lord Standon finished his wine.
"I'll back the roan while there's a penny to borrow," he said with
sublime confidence. "There's nothing can touch him."
"That's what Jasper said," remarked Leroy, "and he ought to know."
"Oh, yes, he's a good judge of a horse," grudgingly admitted Shelton,
who frankly hated him; "and of men too--when it pays him."
Leroy's face darkened slightly. Vermont was his friend, and he resented
a word spoken against him far more than he would have done one against
himself.
"You misjudge him, Shelton," he said briefly.
"Possibly," retorted the other, unabashed. "What you find so fascinating
in him I can't imagine. Still, my dear fellow, setting Vermont aside,
there can be no two opinions respecting your chef. Sarteri is a
possession I positively envy you. There is not another chef in England
that understands entrees as he does."
"None," echoed Lord Standon. "Leroy will be famous for one thing, at
least, if it's only for his cook."
The meal came to an end, and the table was cleared by the silent
Norgate. Cards were produced, and the four were soon deep in the
intricacies of bridge. They played high and recklessly; and after little
more than an hour, Shelton and Leroy had lost over five hundred pounds.
"A 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.