y I should have left
you to go to bed alone."

"Nay! Sir Marmaduke," here came in decisive accents from portly
Mistress Endicott, "methinks 'tis you who misunderstand Master Lambert.
He is of a surety an honorable gentleman, and hath no desire to insult
me, who have ne'er done him wrong, nor yet my friends by refusing a
friendly game of cards in my house!"

She spoke very pointedly, causing her speech to seem like a menace, even
though the words betokened gentleness and friendship.

Lambert's scruples and his desire to please struggled hopelessly in his
mind. Mistress Endicott's eye held him silent even while it urged him to
speak. What could he say? Sir Marmaduke, toward whom he felt gratitude
and respect, surely would not urge what he thought would be wrong for
Lambert.

And if a chaste and pure woman did not disapprove of a game of primero
among friends, what right had he to set up his own standard of right or
wrong against hers? What right had he to condemn what she approved? To
offend his generous employer, and to bring opprobrium and ridicule on
himself which would of necessity redound against Sir Marmaduke also?

Vague instinct still entered a feeble protest, but reason and common
sense and a certain undetermined feeling of what was due to himself
socially--poor country bumpkin!--fought a hard battle too.

"I am right, am I not, good Master Lambert?" came in dulcet tones from
the virtuous hostess, "that you would not really refuse a quiet game of
cards with my friends, at my entreaty ... in my house?"

And Lambert, with a self-deprecatory sigh, and a shrug of the shoulders,
said quietly:

"I have no option, gracious mistress!"

CHAPTER XVIII

THE TRAP

Richard Lambert fortunately for his own peace of mind and the retention
of his dignity, was able to wave aside the hand full of gold and silver
coins which Sir Marmaduke extended towards him.

"I thank you, sir," he said calmly; "I am able to bear the cost of mine
own unavoidable weakness. I have money of mine own."

From out his doublet he took a tiny leather wallet containing a few gold
coins, his worldly all bequeathed to him the same as to his brother--so
the old friend who had brought the lads up had oft explained--by his
grandmother. The little satchel never left his person from the moment
that the old Quakeress had placed it in his hands. There were but five
guineas in all, to which he had added from time to time the few
shillings wh