When she had fled from the little card-room at Ranelagh she had been so angry that she had forgotten that her mask was off. She had run right into Lady Massey, also maskless, and for one moment they had faced each other. Lady Massey had smiled in a way that drove the blood up into Horatia’s cheeks. She had not spoken a word; and Horatia, dragging her domino closely round her, had slipped across the terrace, and down the steps into the garden.

A hackney coach had conveyed her home, and deposited her in the cold dawn in Grosvenor Square. She had half expected to find Rule sitting up for her, but to her relief there was no sign of him. She had told the tire-woman she might go to bed, and she was glad of that too. She wanted to be alone, to think over the disastrous events of the night. But when she had extricated herself from her gown, and made herself ready for bed, she was so tired that she could not think of anything, and fell asleep almost as soon as she had blown out the candle.

She awoke at about nine o’clock, and for a moment wondered why she should feel so oppressed. Then she remembered, and gave a little shudder.

She rang her silver hand-bell, and when the abigail brought in her tray of chocolate and sweet biscuits she was sitting up in bed, her curls, with the powder still clinging to them, tumbled all about her shoulders, and a deep frown on her face.

While the waiting-woman collected her scattered jewels and garments she sipped the chocolate, pondering her problem. What had seemed a mere prank twelve hours earlier had by now assumed gigantic proportions. There was first the episode of the curl. In the sane daylight Horatia was at a loss to imagine how she could ever have consented to play for such a stake. It was—yes, no use blinking facts, it was vulgar: no other word for it. And who could tell what Lethbridge might not do with it? Before that kiss she had had no fear of his discretion, but now he seemed to her monstrous, capable of boasting, even, that he had won the curl from her. As for the kiss, she supposed that she had brought that on herself; a reflection which gave her no comfort. But worst of all had been the meeting with Caroline Massey. If she had seen, and Horatia was certain that she had, the tale would be all over the town by tomorrow. And the Massey had Rule’s ear. Depend upon it, if she refrained from telling anyone else she would be bound to tell him, only too glad of the opportunity to make mischief between him and his wife.

Suddenly she pushed the tray away from her. “I’m g-going to get up!” she said.

“Yes, my lady. What gown will your ladyship wear?”

“It doesn’t m-matter,” Horatia answered curtly.

An hour later she came down the stairs, and in a resolute voice inquired of a footman whether the Earl was in the house.

His lordship, she was told, had that instant come in, and was with Mr Gisborne.

Horatia drew a breath, as though in preparation for a dive into deep waters, and walked across the hall to Mr Gisborne’s room.

The Earl was standing by the desk with his back to the door, reading a speech Mr Gisborne had prepared for him. He had evidently been riding, for he wore top-boots, a little dusty, and buckskin breeches, with a plain but excellently cut coat of blue cloth with silver buttons. He held his whip and gloves in one hand; his hat was thrown down on a chair. “Admirable, my dear boy, but far too long. I should forget the half of it, and the Lords would be shocked, quite shocked, you know,” he said, and gave the paper back to the secretary. “And Arnold—do you think—a little less impassioned? Ah yes, I thought you would agree! I am never impassioned.”

Mr Gisborne was bowing to Horatia; my lord turned his head, and saw her. “A thousand pardons, my love! I did not hear you come in,” he said.

Horatia bestowed a rather perfunctory smile on Mr Gisborne, who, accustomed to the friendliest of treatment from her, instantly wondered what could be the matter. “Are you very b-busy, sir?” she asked, raising her anxious eyes to Rule’s face.

“Arnold will tell you, my dear, that I am never busy,” he replied.

“W-well, could you spare me a m-moment of your time n-now?” Horatia said.

“As many as you desire,” he said, and held open the door for her to pass out. “Shall we go into the library, ma’am?”

“I d-don’t mind where we go,” said Horatia in a small voice. “But I want to be p-private with you.”

“My dear, this is very flattering,” he said.

“It isn’t,” replied Horatia mournfully. She went into the library, and watched him shut the door. “I want to be p-private because there is something I m-must tell you.”

The veriest hint of surprise flickered for an instant in his eyes; he looked at her for a moment, rather searchingly, she thought. Then he moved forward. “But won’t you sit down Horry?”

She stayed where she was, her hands gripping the back of a chair. “No, I think I’ll s-stand,” she answered. “M-Marcus, I had better tell you at once that I’ve done something d-dread-ful!”

At that a smile quivered at the corners of his mouth. “I’m prepared for the worst, then.”

“I assure you, it isn’t f-funny,” said Horatia tragically. “In f-fact, I’m afraid you will be amazingly angry, and I m-must own,” she added in a rush of candour, “I d-deserve it, even if you beat me with that whip, only I d-do hope you won’t, M-Marcus.”

“I can safely promise you that I won’t,” said the Earl, laying both whip and gloves down on the table. “Come, Horry, what is the matter?”

She began to trace the pattern of the chair-back with one finger. “Well, I—w-well, you see, I—M-Marcus, did they give you my m-message last night?” She raised her eyes fleetingly, and saw him gravely watching her. “I desired the p-porter to tell you, if-if you asked, that I was gone to Ranelagh.”

“Yes, I did get that message,” Rule answered.

“Well—w-well, I did go there. To the ridotto. And I w-went with Lord L-Lethbridge.”

There was a pause. “Is that all?” Rule asked.

“No,” confessed Horatia. “It’s only the b-beginning. There’s m-much worse to come.”

“Then I had better reserve my wrath,” he said. “Go on, Horry.”

“You see, I w-went with Lord Lethbridge, and—and left the message, because—because—”

“Because you naturally wanted me to know that you had—shall we say?—thrown down the glove. I quite understand that part of it,” said Rule encouragingly.

She looked up again. “Yes, that w-was the reason,” she admitted. “It wasn’t that I wanted very p-particularly to be with him, Rule. And I thought since everyone was to be m-masked that nobody would know, except you, so that I should just make you angry and n-not cause any scandal at all.”

“The matter is now perfectly clear,” said Rule. “Let us proceed to Ranelagh.”

“W-well, at first it was very p-pleasant, and I liked it excessively. Then—then we had supper in one of the boxes, and I t-teased Robert to play cards with me. You must know, M-Marcus, that I wanted dreadfully to play with him, and he never would. At last he said he would, but—but not for money.” She knit her brows, puzzling over something, and suddenly said: “Rule, d-do you think that perhaps I d-drank too much champagne?”

“I trust not, Horry.”

“Well, I c-cant account for it otherwise,” she said. “He said he would p-play for a lock of my hair, and it’s no use d-deceiv-ing you, Rule, I agreed!” As no explosion of wrath greeted this confession she took a firm grip of the chair-back, and continued. “And I l-let him take me to a p-private room—in fact, I wanted it to be p-private—and we played p-piquet, and—and I lost. And I m-must say,” she added, “though he is the most odious m-man I ever met he is a very, very fine card-p-player.”

“I believe he is,” said the Earl. “I need not ask, of course, whether you paid your stake.”

“I had to. It was a d-debt of honour, you see. I let him cut one of my c-curls off, and—and he’s got it n-now.”

“Forgive me, my dear, but have you told me this because you wish me to get that curl back for you?” inquired his lordship.

“No, no!” Horatia replied impatiently. “You c-can’t get it back; I lost it in fair play. Something much, m-much worse happened then—though it w-wasn’t the worst of all. He—he caught hold of me, and took my m-mask off, and—kissed me! And Rule, the m-most dreadful thing! I f-forgot about my mask, and I ran away, and—and Lady Massey was just outside the w-window, and she saw me, and I know she had been w-watching all the time! So you see, I’ve m-made a vulgar scandal, and I thought the only thing I could do was to t-tell you at once, because even if you are furious with me, you ought to know, and I couldn’t b-bear anyone else to tell you!”

The Earl did not seem to be furious. He listened calmly to the whole of this hurried speech, and at them end of it walked forward across the space that separated the, and to Horatia’s astonishment took her hand in his and raised it to his lips.“My compliments, Horry,” he said. “You have surprised me.”

He released her hand, and went towards the desk that stood in the window. Taking a key from his pocket he unlocked one of the drawers and pulled it open. Horatia blinked at him, utterly at a loss. He came back to her, and held out his hand. In the palm of it lay a powdered curl.

Horatia gave a gasp, staring at it. Then she looked up, quite dumbfounded. “M-mine?” she stammered.

“Yours, my dear.”

“But I—but—How did you c-come by it?”

He gave a little laugh. “I won it.”

“Won it?” she repeated, uncomprehending. “How c-could you? Who—Rule, whom did you win it from?”

“Why, from you, Horry. Whom else could I have won it from?”