e, an infusion of fresh blood, at some date
more or less remote, might reasonably be conjectured, even though
incapable of proof.

The Vicar, as he said this, looked across at Mrs. Fossell
interrogatively. He was really expecting her to lead trumps, but she
mistook him to be asking her assent to his theory. To keep the ball
rolling, she opined that what had happened once need not necessarily
happen again, especially in these days when locomotion was making such
strides. She hazarded this in the lowest key; but it happened in just
that momentary hush upon which the faintest remark falls resonantly.
The Commandant heard it across the room as he waited for Mr. Rogers to
cut the cards; and the Vicar, by a freak of hearing, picked it up at
once.

"My dear lady," he demanded, "are you talking of progenitiveness!"

"N-no," stammered Mrs. Fossell, in confusion. "Nothing of the sort. I
was referring to the garrison here being left out of mind--like the
regiment you spoke of----"

Miss Gabriel tapped the table impatiently. "Mr. Rogers," she said, "I
think we had better attend to the game. Major Vigoureux is waiting for
you to cut." She said it with her eyes upon the Commandant's hand,
which was trembling. He wondered, as he dealt, if she had observed that
it was trembling. If so, had she guessed the true reason?

The score mounted to nine-eight. The Commandant lifted a hand to his
brow as Mr. Fossell, whose turn it was, took up the cards and began to
deal methodically, without a trace of discomposure.

"Half a crown! and if he lost, one penny left to last him to next pay
day!" A terrible thought seized him. "And what if, when he presented
himself at Mr. Fossell's bank on pay-day, the money was not
forthcoming?" Nonsense! He was unhinged.... The money had always
arrived punctually ... but the whole world seemed to be in conspiracy
against him to-night, and his luck along with it.

Mr. Rogers, who had a trick of sorting out his suits between his
fingers, hesitated for a few moments, put his cards together, and with
an air of fierce determination, led a small heart.

Again the Commandant's right hand went up to his brow. The room was
very close and still. But the Vicar remained unaware of the general
excitement, and across the silence the Vicar was heard to say
confidentially:--

"Between you and me there was a time when I hoped our friend the
Commandant might make a match of it."

The poor Commandant!... With his gaze