Part 12 (1/2)

”No,” he said with embarra.s.sed deprecation, ”no, I'm more afraid of your displeasure. I--I'm exceedingly sorry to disappoint you.”

But once more his host laughed.

”Nonsense, man! I know your little scruples and your little conscience, and I'm not scared of either. Never meet the devil half way! He covers the ground too quickly as it is.” He caught up the cards again, and forming them into a pack, held them out. ”Cut!” he said laconically.

Milbanke drew back, and his lips came together, in a thin line.

”Come on! Cut!”

The colour of a.s.shlin's face became a shade deeper.

Still the other sat rigidly still.

For a moment their eyes held each other; then suddenly the blood surged into a.s.shlin's neck and face.

”Do you mean to say that you refuse to play?” he asked slowly. ”That you refuse to give me my revenge?”

Milbanke met the attack unsteadily.

”My dear Denis----”

But before the words had left his lips, a.s.shlin flung the cards upon the table with a force that sent a score of them flying across the room.

”And may I ask you for your reasons?” he demanded with alarming calm.

Milbanke fenced.

”I do not wish to play.”

”And I don't wish to be treated as a fool.”

The other altered his att.i.tude.

”My dear Denis, you surely acknowledge the right of free will? I do not wish to play cards, and therefore beg to be excused. What could be simpler?”

His manner was slightly perturbed, his speech hasty. There was the suggestion of a sleeping volcano in his host's unnatural calm.

In the silence that followed, a.s.shlin lifted his gla.s.s and emptied it slowly.

”I don't know about that,” he said as he set it down. ”There are unwritten codes that all the free will in the world won't dispose of.

One of them is that a gentleman who wins at cards cannot refuse his opponent the satisfaction of his revenge. But perhaps the etiquette has changed since my time.”

His manner was still controlled, but his eyes glittered.

Milbanke cleared his throat.

”My dear a.s.shlin,” he said, ”we are surely friends of too long standing to split hairs in this fas.h.i.+on. What is this revenge that you talk of?

Nothing--a myth--an imaginary justification of honour.”