‘What a ridiculous idea!’ I cried. ‘I never heard anything so absurd. The idea of staking such a thing … on a card game!’
‘Alas, my friend, your wife forbids it.’
There was no mistaking the pity in Dickon’s voice for the man who could not choose for himself. Poor Charles, he was implying, you are not allowed a will of your own. Your wife decides for you.
He knew that would sting Charles into action.
‘I think it is an amusing idea,’ he said.
‘This is the first time you have agreed with Dickon,’ I reminded him. ‘And over such a foolish matter!’
‘It excites me,’ said Dickon. ‘The fall of a card … and one’s future changed. That is the true spirit of gambling.’
‘Deal the cards,’ said Charles.
‘Three games,’ cried Dickon, ‘as it is such an important issue. Too much so to be decided in one.’
I knew what he was doing. He wanted to be rid of Charles. But how could he be sure? Something told me that Dickon was always sure.
I looked at my father-in-law. He was asleep now. His wife was nodding. I could not take my eyes from the table.
The first game went to Charles. He was very merry.
‘I don’t think you are going to like it there,’ he said to Dickon.
‘If I go I shall make the best of it,’ retorted Dickon. ‘As I am sure you will.’
‘One up to me,’ said Charles. ‘The next one could be decisive. I have only to win one and there will be no need for a third.’
‘Here’s to me,’ said Dickon. ‘If you win this one it will cut short the excitement.’
I said: ‘Of course you are not serious.’
‘Deadly so,’ replied Dickon.
The game had begun. I heard the seconds tick away and then the final cry of triumph. Dickon was the winner.
Now I found the suspense unbearable. If Dickon went to America I might never see him again. I might not in any case. I ought not to. He was dangerous. There was no peace where he was. But I did not think he would ever go to America. If he lost he would find some excuse for staying at home.
The deciding game had started. I watched them, my heart throbbing. The silence seemed to go on for a long time. And then … Dickon was laying his cards on the table. He was smiling at Charles. I could not understand what Charles’s expression meant and neither of them spoke.
I could endure no more. I rose and went to the table.
‘Well?’ I demanded.
Dickon smiled at me. ‘Your husband will be leaving for North America to fight in the cause of justice.’
I was so angry with them both that I swept the cards from the table.
Dickon stood up and looked at me ruefully. ‘You should not blame the cards,’ he said; and taking my hand kissed it and bade me good-night.
I helped Charles to bed. He was bemused both by the wine he had drunk and the wager he had made. I don’t think he quite realized then what it meant.
‘An evening’s nonsense,’ I called it. I said: ‘I suppose it was a way of putting a bit of excitement into a card game.’
Charles slept heavily and in the morning he had fully recovered. I had slept very fitfully because although I had tried to assure myself that it was an evening’s nonsense, I was not at all certain of that.
Charles sat on the bed and said: ‘I shall have to go.’
‘How ridiculous!’
‘I have always paid my debts at cards. It is a matter of honour.’
‘This was just a bit of nonsense between you two.’
‘No. It was meant. I have often thought I ought to go and this has decided me. I shall go and see Brouillard today.’
‘You mean that man at Angoulême!’
‘It will be easier to go with him. Doubtless there will be several I know among his recruits.’
‘Charles, are you seriously meaning to go abroad?’
‘It is only for a short time. We’ll get the English on the run and it will be over soon. I’d like to be in on the end.’
‘So you really are serious!’
‘Never more.’
‘My God!’ I cried. ‘How foolish can men get!’
Two days later Dickon left and Charles had already made contact with the Comte de Brouillard and was in constant touch with the noblemen who were to form part of the Comte’s expedition.
Dickon was well pleased when he said
‘What would you have done … if you had lost?’ I asked him. ‘Would you have left Eversleigh … your exciting life in London?’
