Richard, I want to think the best I can of you. Master Jack would tell me nothing. Will you not–can you not explain how it came that you allowed him to bear the blame of your cheat?"
Richard shuddered.
"There's no explanation–no excuse. I forced it on him! On Jack, my brother! Because I was mad for love of Lavinia— Oh, my God, the thought of it is driving me crazed! I thought I could forget; and then–and then–I met him! The sight of him brought it all back to me. Ever since that day I have not known how to live and not shriek the truth to everyone! And I never shall! I never shall!"
"Tell me, sir," pleaded Warburton, touched in spite of himself.
Richard's head sunk into his hands.
"The whole scene is a nightmare. . . . I think I must have been mad. . . I scarce knew what I was about. I—"
"Gently, sir. Remember I know hardly anything. What induced you to mark the cards?"
"That debt to Gundry. My father would not meet it; I had to find the money. I could not face the scandal–I tell you I was mad for Lavinia! I could think of nought else. I ceased to care for John because I thought him in love with her. I could not bear to think of the disgrace which would take her from me. . . . Then that night at Dare's. I was losing; I knew I could not pay. Gad! but I can see my notes of hand under Milward's elbow, growing. . . growing.
"Jack had played Milward before me, and he had won. I remember they laughed at him, saying his luck had turned at last–for he always lost at cards. Milward and I played with the same pack that they had used. . . . There was another table, I think. Dare was dicing with Fitzgerald; someone was playing faro with Jack behind me. I heard Jack say his luck was out again–I heard them laugh. . . . And all the time I was losing. . . losing.
"The pin of my cravat fell out on to my knee. I think no one saw it. As I picked it up the thought that I should mark the cards seemed to flash into my mind–oh, it was despicable, I know! I held the ace of clubs in my hand: I scratched it with that pin–in one corner. It was easily done. By degrees I marked all four, and three of the kings.
"No one noticed, but I was nervous–I dared do no more. I replaced that pin. Soon I began to win–not very much. Then Tracy Belmanoir came across the room to watch our play. From that moment everything seemed to go awry. It was the beginning of the trouble.
"Tracy stood behind me watching. . . . I could feel him there, like some black moth, hovering. . . . I don't know how long he stayed like that–it seemed hours. I could feel his eyes. . . . I could have shrieked–I'll swear my hands were trembling.
"Suddenly he moved. I had played the ace of hearts. He said: 'One moment!' in that soft, sinister voice of his.
"Milward was surprised. I tried to tell myself that Devil had noticed nothing. . . . The mark on that card was so faint that I could scarce see it myself. I thought it impossible that he, a mere onlooker, should discover it. He stepped forward. I remember he brushed my shoulder. I remember how the light caught the diamonds he was wearing. I think my brain was numbed. I could only repeat to myself: 'Extravagant Devil! Extravagant Devil!' and stare at those winking jewels. Then I thought: 'He is Lavinia's brother, but I do not like him; I do not like him. . . '–little foolish things like that–and my throat was dry–parched.
"He bent over the table. . . stretched out his white, white hand. . . turned over the ace. . . lifted his quizzing glass. . . and stared down at the card. Then he dropped the glass and drew out his snuff-box. . . . It had Aphrodite enamelled on the lid. I remember it so distinctly. . . . I heard Tracy ask Milward to examine the ace. I wanted to spring up and strangle him. . . . I could scarce keep my hands still." Richard paused. He drew his hand across his eyes, shuddering.
"Milward saw the scratch. He cried out that the cards were marked! Suddenly everyone seemed to be