“I thank you, no!” replied Sir Marmaduke, striving to master his habitual ill-humor and to speak pleasantly.  “My luck hath long since deserted me, if it e’er visited me at all.  A fact of which I grow daily more doubtful.”

“But ventre-saint-gris!” ejaculated Lord Walterton, who showed an inclination to become quarrelsome in his cups, “we must have someone to take Endicott’s place, I cannot work my system hic ... if so few play....”

“Perhaps your young friend, Sir Marmaduke ...” suggested Mistress Endicott, waving an embroidered handkerchief in the direction of Richard Lambert.

“No doubt! no doubt!” rejoined Sir Marmaduke, turning with kindly graciousness to his secretary.  “Master Lambert, these gentlemen are requiring another hand for their game ...  I pray you join in with them....”

“I would do so with pleasure, sir,” replied Lambert, still unsuspecting, “but I fear me I am a complete novice at cards....  What is the game?”

He was vaguely distrustful of cards, for he had oft heard this pastime condemned as ungodly by those with whom he had held converse in his early youth, nevertheless it did not occur to him that there might be anything wrong in a game which was countenanced by Sir Marmaduke de Chavasse, whom he knew to be an avowed Puritan, and by the saintly lady who had been the friend of ex-Queen Henrietta Maria.

“’Tis a simple round game,” said Sir Marmaduke lightly, “you would soon learn.”

“And ...” said Lambert diffidently questioning, and eying the gold and silver which lay in profusion on the table, “there is no money at stake ... of course? ...”

“Oh! only a little,” rejoined Mistress Endicott, “a paltry trifle ... to add zest to the enjoyment of the game.”

“However little it may be, Sir Marmaduke,” said Lambert firmly, speaking directly to his employer, “I humbly pray you to excuse me before these gentlemen ...”

The three players at the table, as well as the two Endicotts, had listened to this colloquy with varying feelings.  Segrave was burning with impatience, Lord Walterton was getting more and more fractious, whilst Sir Michael Isherwood viewed the young secretary with marked hauteur.  At the last words spoken by Lambert there came from all these gentlemen sundry ejaculations, expressive of contempt or annoyance, which caused an ugly frown to appear between de Chavasse’s eyes, and a deep blush to rise in the young man’s pale cheek.

“What do you mean?” queried Sir Marmaduke harshly.

“There are other gentlemen here,” said Lambert, speaking with more firmness and decision now that he encountered inimical glances and felt as if somehow he was on his trial before all these people, “and I am not rich enough to afford the luxury of gambling.”

“Nay! if that is your difficulty,” rejoined Sir Marmaduke, “I pray you, good master, to command my purse ... you are under my wing to-night ... and I will gladly bear the burden of your losses.”