"
"Then depend on it he was gambling," said Eleanor, with the assured air
of one who has few ideas and makes the most of them. "Late hours in the
country always mean gambling."
"He can't gamble if he has no money and no chance of getting any," argued
Mrs. Attray; "even if one plays for small stakes one must have a decent
prospect of paying one's losses."
"He may have sold some of the Amherst pheasant chicks," suggested
Eleanor; "they would fetch about ten or twelve shillings each, I
daresay."
"Ronnie wouldn't do such a thing," said Mrs. Attray; "and anyhow I went
and counted them this morning and they're all there. No," she continued,
with the quiet satisfaction that comes from a sense of painstaking and
merited achievement, "I fancy that Ronnie had to content himself with the
role of onlooker last night, as far as the card-table was concerned."
"Is that clock right?" asked Eleanor, whose eyes had been straying
restlessly towards the mantel-piece for some little time; "lunch is
usually so punctual in your establishment."
"Three minutes past the half-hour," exclaimed Mrs. Attray; "cook must be
preparing something unusually sumptuous in your honour. I am not in the
secret; I've been out all the morning, you know."
Eleanor smiled forgivingly. A special effort by Mrs. Attray's cook was
worth waiting a few minutes for.
As a matter of fact, the luncheon fare, when it made its tardy
appearance, was distinctly unworthy of the reputation which the justly-
treasured cook had built up for herself.
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