of it."

Then with a laugh she swung round and left him, puzzled.

CHAPTER XI

CRESTWICK GIVES TROUBLE

The little room in Marple's house, where the Crestwicks were staying, was
hot and partly filled with cigar smoke which drifted in filmy streaks
athwart the light of the green-shaded hanging-lamp. Lisle sat beneath the
lamp, studying the cards in his hand, until he leaned back in his chair
and flung a glance about the table. There were no counters on it, but
Gladwyne had just noted something in a little book and was waiting with a
languid smile upon his handsome face. Next to him sat Batley, looking
thoughtful; and Crestwick sat opposite Lisle, eager and unhealthily
flushed. His forehead showed damp in the lamplight and there was an
unpleasant glitter in his eyes. It was close on to midnight and luck had
gone hard against him during the past hour, half of which Lisle had spent
in his company. This had cost Lisle more money than he was willing to
part with.

"It's getting late," he said with a yawn. "After this hand, I'll drop
out; I dare say one of the other two will take my place. Crestwick, I
believe your sister and Miss Leslie will be waiting. You're going with
them, aren't you?"

The lad, turning in his chair, reached toward a near-by table on which
there were bottles and siphons, and took a glass from it. He had been
invited to join a shooting party at a house in the neighborhood and was
to spend the night there.

"Oh!" he exclaimed with some irritation; "Bella's always in such an
unreasonable hurry. The others can't be going yet. I think I hear Flo
Marple singing."

A voice from somewhere below reached them through the open door. It was a
good voice, but the words were a silly jingle and the humor in them could
not be considered delicate. Lisle, glancing at Gladwyne, noticed his
slight frown, but one of the two young men lounging by the second table
watching the game hummed the refrain with an appreciative smile upon his
heavy and somewhat fatuous face.

"They'll take half an hour to get ready," declared Batley. "Better play
out this round, anyhow."

They laid down their cards in turn and then Crestwick noisily thrust his
chair back.

"Another knock-out!" he exclaimed savagely. "I don't like to get up so
far behind. Shall we double on another deal?"

"As you like," returned Batley. "You're plucky, considering the cards
you've had; but if Fortune's fickle, she's supposed to favor a determin