do you know so little of the world--of women--as that? What
proof do you need? Just--look into her eyes!"

A queer note of passion sounded in his own voice, and it told Bunny very
clearly that he was grappling with the naked truth at last. It arrested
him in a moment. He suddenly found that he could go no further. There
was no need.

Impulsively, with an inarticulate word of apology, he thrust out his
hand. Saltash's came to meet it in a swift, hard grip.

"Enough?" he asked, with that odd, smiling grimace of his that revealed
so little.

And, "Yes, enough!" Bunny said, looking him straight in the face.

They parted almost without words a few minutes later. There was no more
to be said.

CHAPTER XIV

THE LAST CARD

Saltash dined alone that night. He was in a restless mood and
preoccupied, scarcely noticing what was put before him, pushing away the
wine untasted. In the end he rose from the table almost with a gesture of
disgust.

"I'm going to smoke on the ramparts," he said to the decorous butler who
waited upon him. "If anyone should call to see me, let them wait in the
music-room!"

"Very good, my lord! And where would you like to take coffee?" enquired
the man sedately.

Saltash laughed. "Not on the ramparts--emphatically. I'll have mercy on
you to that extent. Put it on the spirit-lamp in the music-room, and
leave it! You needn't sit up, any of you. I'll put out the lights."

"Very good, my lord."

The man withdrew, and Saltash chose a cigar. An odd grimace drew his
features as he lighted it. He had the look of a man who surveys his last
card and knows himself a loser. Though he went out of the room and up
the great staircase to the music-room with his head up and complete
indifference in his carriage, his eyelids were slightly drawn. He did not
look as if he had enjoyed the game.

A single red lamp lighted the music-room, and the long apartment looked
dim and ghostly. He stood for a moment as he entered it and looked round,
then with a scarcely perceptible lift of the shoulders he passed straight
through to the curtain that hung before the door leading to the turret.
The darkness of the place gaped before him, and he turned back with a
muttered word and recrossed the room. There were Persian rugs upon the
floor, and his feet made no sound. He went to the mantel-piece and,
feeling along it, found a small electric torch. The light of it flared
before him as he returned. The door yielded t