Might as
well out with it, I suppose! I know _I_ can't bear having had news
'broken' to me. My husband told you he was seedy, didn't he?--and hadn't
meant to play, so he'd banked all the money. He hadn't the courage, poor
chap, to tell you what really happened. He's simply sick over it, so I
offered to see you. In a way, it was true, what he said. The bank _has_
got the money, only--it's the Casino bank. Dauntrey had an awful debacle
to-day, the first time since he's been playing for you, and lost
everything; not only your capital, of course, but his own too. It's your
money he's so sick about, though. He could stand the loss of his own,
though it's a blow, and I don't quite know what we shall do. But to lose
yours! He's almost off his head. If it weren't for me, and my saying
you'd forgive him, I believe he'd blow his brains out."
"Oh, don't speak of anything so horrible!" Mary cried. "Of course I
forgive him."
"He's afraid you may think he has juggled away your money. When you
asked him for it to-night he was already wondering how you'd take the
loss; but your proposal coming suddenly like that bowled him over, and
he made an excuse to put off the evil hour. What a weird coincidence you
should have wanted your capital back the very day he'd lost the lot!
He's so sorry you didn't think of it yesterday; for then it would have
been safe in your hands now, unless you'd lost it yourself, which I
can't help thinking, my dear, you probably _would_, the way things were
going with you before.
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