Transcriber's Notes:
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http://books.google.com/books?id=3DwPAAAAQAAJ
(Oxford University)
VIOLET FORSTER'S LOVER
By the Same Author
* * *
TWIN SISTERS
THE LOVELY MRS. BLAKE
THE INTERRUPTED KISS
* * *
_Cassell & Co., Ltd., London_
[Illustration: "'Sydney!' she cried. 'My darling! Thank God, it's
you.'" (_see page 145_).]
VIOLET FORSTER'S LOVER
BY
RICHARD MARSH
_Author of "The Interrupted Kiss," "The Lovely Mrs. Blake,"
"Twin Sisters," etc. etc_.
WITH A FRONTISPIECE IN COLOUR BY
E. S. HODGSON
CASSELL AND COMPANY, LTD.
London, New York, Toronto and Melbourne
1912
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
1. The Card on the Floor.
2. While the Groom Waited.
3. "Stop, Thief!"
4. The Good Samaritan.
5. Dreaming.
6. His Wife.
7. Among Thieves.
8. The Sandwich-man.
9. The Drapery.
10. The Woman Tempted Me.
11. In the Wood.
12. "What Does it Mean?"
13. The Alcove.
14. "Who is Simmons?"
15. 'Twixt the Dark and Daylight.
16. The Lacquered Club.
17. Sleepers Awakened.
18. In Bed.
19. The Two Women.
20. The Leather Bag.
21. An Envelope.
22. The Countess and Violet.
23. The Latest Story.
24. 2A Cobden Mansions.
25. Julia Spurrier.
26. Happiness!
27. A Game of Billiards.
28. An Irregular Visitor.
29. The Visitor Remains.
30. The Story of what Happened after the Easter Ball.
31. Asking Forgiveness.
32. In the Taxicab.
33. "Vi!"
34. Some Letters and a Telegram.
VIOLET FORSTER'S LOVER
CHAPTER I
The Card on the Floor
Tickell turned his cards.
"A straight." The men all bent over to look. "King high--there you are,
nine, ten, knave, queen, king; a mixed lot, but they'll take some
beating."
Something on Beaton's face seemed to suggest that the other's hand was
unexpectedly strong. He smiled--not easily.
"You're right, they will; and I'm afraid----" He turned his hand half
over, then, letting the five cards fall uppermost on the table, sat and
stared at him, as if startled. It was Major Reith who announced the
value of the hand.
"A full and ace high--he's got you, Jack; a bumper, Sydney."
He pushed the salver which served as a pool over towards Beaton.
Obviously it contained a great deal of money; there were both notes and
gold, and cheques and half-sheets of paper.
"What will you take for it, Sydney?" asked George Pierce.
Anthony Dodwell interposed.
"One moment, before Beaton takes either the pool or--anything else.
Perhaps he won't mind saying what is the card that he dropped on the
floor."
They all looked at him--Beaton with a sudden startled turn of the head.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
Dodwell met his eager gaze with a calmness which, in its way, was
almost ominous.
"I'm afraid that question is quite unnecessary; I fancy you know quite
well what I mean. Will you pick up the card you dropped, or shall I?"
"I dropped no card." He drew his chair a little away from the table so
as to enable him to see the floor. "I didn't know it, but there does
seem to be one down there."
"Unless some good fairy removed it since you dropped it, there was
bound to be. Draycott, would you mind picking up that card?"
Noel Draycott, stooping, picking up the card, showed it to the
assembled players, in whose demeanour, for some as yet unspoken reason,
there seemed to have come a sudden change.
"It's only the nine of spades."
"Exactly, which was possibly the reason why Beaton dropped it; with the
nine of spades he could hardly have made a full."
Beaton rose to his feet, his face flushed, his tones raised.
"Dodwell, are you--are you insinuating----" The other cut him short.
"I'm insinuating nothing. You are the dealer; there's a pack close to
your hand; you gave yourself three cards; I saw you glance at them,
then drop one on to the floor, and take another off the top of the
pack--in the hope, I presume, that it was a better one. It clearly was;
the card you dropped was the nine of spades; the hand you have shown
there consists of three aces and a pair of knaves; I can't say which
was the card you took from the top of the pack, but it was one of them,
and it certainly gave you the full."
There was silence, that curious silence which suggests discomfort,
which presages a storm. It is not often that an accusation of foul play
is made at a card-table around which are seated English gentlemen.
These men were officers in one of His Majesty's regiments of Guards;
they were having what they called "a little flutter at poker" after the
mess dinner--it had gone farther perhaps than some of them had
intended. Considerable sums had been staked, and won and lost. Sydney
Beaton in particular had punted heavily. For the most part he had
lost--all his ready cash and more. For some time he had been betting
with I.O.U.'s scribbled on odd scraps of paper. There had just been a
jackpot. Five men had come in, dropping out one after the other until
only Beaton and Tickell had been left. Tickell's last raise had been a
hundred pounds; Beaton had covered the bet with an I.O.U. for £100 to
see him; the hand he had exposed was, of course, the better one; there
was a large sum of money in the pool, much the largest which it had as
yet contained; if it was his, then it would probably more than set him
on his feet again. It was the fact that there seemed to be an "if"
which caused those present to stare at each other and at him as if all
at once tongue-tied.
Beaton had gone red, then white; and now one felt that something must
have happened to the muscles of his face, its expression seemed to have
become so set and rigid. Major Reith, who was the oldest man present,
broke the silence.
"Dodwell, please be careful what you say. Come, Sydney, tell him he is
mistaken."
What Beaton said was gasped rather than spoken.
"It's a lie!"
Dodwell's manner continued unruffled. He turned to Draycott.
"Noel, I fancy I caught your eye. Am I wrong in supposing that you also
saw what happened?"
"I'm afraid I did."
"You saw Beaton drop one of the three cards he gave himself, and take
another off the top of the pack?"
"I'm afraid I did."
As Draycott repeated his former words, Beaton, still on his feet,
swinging round, struck him with such violence that the man and the
chair on which he was seated both went together to the floor. The thing
was so unexpected that it had been done before anyone could interpose.
Frank Clifford, who was on the other side of him, caught at Beaton's
arm.
"Sydney! That won't do!"
Beaton, instead of heeding his words, was endeavouring to thrust the
table away in order to get at Dodwell, who was on the other side. The
others were able to prevent his doing that.
"If I get at him," he gasped, "I'll kill him."
But they did not allow him to get at his accuser, for they held him
back; and they were five or six to one. Major Reith spoke.
"Don't make bad worse, Beaton, please; this is not a matter with which
you can deal on quite those lines. Do we understand you to deny what
Dodwell and Draycott say?"
The fact was, Beaton had not only had his share of wine at the table,
he had been drinking since, liqueur after liqueur. Trifles of that
kind, when in sufficient numbers, do not tend to cool a young man's
already heated brain. For longer than they supposed Sydney had not been
his real self; many and various were the causes which had been tending
to make him lose his balance. Then, in that supreme moment, when he
needed to keep his head more than ever in his life, he lost his balance
altogether and played the fool.
"Do you think," he shouted, "that I'll condescend to deny such a charge
coming from a beast like Draycott and a cur like Dodwell? I tell you
what I will do, I'll take them on both together and fight them to a
standstill, and choke their infernal lies back into their throats.
Major Harold Reith, if I do get hold of you, I'll tear your lying
tongue out by the roots."
He tried to get at the major, but of course they would not let him. For
a few minutes there was a discreditable scene; Beaton behaved like a
lunatic. Those who tried to keep him from attacking Major Reith he
fought tooth and nail. Between them he was borne to the ground, then,
as if he had been some wild beast, they had to drag him out of the
room, and fling the door to in his face.
When, later, inquiries were made as to his whereabouts, he was not to
be found. His room was empty. He had apparently paid a hurried visit to
it. His mess uniform was on the floor. Apparently he had torn it off
him and attired himself in something else. What he had done afterwards
there was little to show. The sentry on duty, when closely questioned,
said that Captain Beaton, in civilian dress, had passed him, reeling
like a drunken man, and vanished into the night. The sentry was the
last man connected with his regiment who saw him. Not a line came from
him; nothing was heard; the place which had known him knew him no more.
He had gone, a pariah, out into the world. He had been one of the
best-liked men in the regiment; there were many who missed him; but
there was one whose heart was nearly broken.