probably thought the place threadbare. Lady Sara’s simple tastes were completely unlike those of the Dowager Countess. At Connaught Place, the rooms occupied by her mother were filled with expensive clutter: gold tea and coffee services, heavily engraved; fruit stands and side dishes, also of gold, supported by arching palm trees with sculpted animals and cherubs about their bases; cruets blazoned with sea or land battles; silver urns crowded with sculpted flowers; trays with an entire ballet represented on them; statuettes of every kind; stoneware that displayed the history of England; clocks ornamented with Egyptian obelisks; mechanical figures that moved to music. In Lady Sara’s quarters, everything was plain and functional, like her gowns, and in exquisite taste.
Before the Viscountess could state her problem, Lord Woolston ambled in. He was an elderly baron with white hair and a spectacular white, drooping moustache. His black frock coat was set off by a gold-coloured embroidered waistcoat and a gold-coloured silk cravat. He had come directly from home; his trousers were not even wrinkled. He ceremoniously removed his gloves, gold-coloured to match his waistcoat, before he accepted Lady Sara’s hand and gave me a condescending nod.
The third arrival was the Honourable Blanche Dillion, a shy young woman about twenty, who was a younger daughter of the Viscount Dillion. She might have been almost pretty had she not been so obviously distressed. She was dressed much too severely for her age in a brown coat and skirt with just a passing nod to fashion in the lace trimming on her blouse. Her face was pale, and she behaved in an extremely subdued fashion.
Lady Sara got everyone seated. Her maid poured coffee and served an assortment of biscuits. The previous night’s storm dominated the conversation for a few minutes. Then Lady Sara diplomatically suggested that she see them one at a time in her library if they had anything to discuss with her.
Immediately all three turned shy and wanted to be last. Lady Sara was never willing to waste time on social trivialities. “Very well,” she said. “Usually it is ladies first. Since the ladies are reluctant, Lord Woolston, why don’t we start with you?”
He nodded and smiled. “Jolly good idea. Let’s get on with it.”
Lady Sara led him into the library and I followed, leaving the maid to keep the two ladies supplied with coffee and biscuits.
We seated ourselves comfortably, and Lord Woolston harumphed twice, bit his lip, and then announced, “London after the Season is a stupid place. Nothing to do, don’t you know. My granddaughter is about to have a baby, and Lady Woolston insisted on staying in town to be near her. That’s women’s business, nothing to do with me, but Lady Woolston insisted I stay, too. London is a thundering dull place with everyone gone.”
“It must seem so,” Lady Sara said sympathetically. Since Lord Woolston seemed reluctant to come to the point, she added, “You haven’t been quarrelling with both Lady Woolston and your valet, I hope.”
“Why do you say that?” Lord Woolston demanded.
“If you had been on speaking terms with either of them, you wouldn’t have been allowed to leave the house wearing that cravat with that waistcoat.”
Lord Woolston gave his cravat a bewildered glance. “Really? Never gave it a thought. Edward went to Cornwall for a few days to visit his parents, and to tell the truth, both Lady Woolston and I were upset. I went to one of my clubs last night, White’s, and the place was practically empty. I met a friend there, though. At a loose end himself, but he said he knew where we could have a friendly game of cards. So we went together.”
“How much did you lose?” Lady Sara asked.
Lord Woolston winced and chewed on his moustache. “Matter of a bit more than five thousand pounds,” he said finally.
Lady Sara nodded gravely. “Not what I would call a friendly game. What were you playing?”
“Baccarat.”
“How did you manage to lose so much?”
“Never saw such a run of luck—good and bad. Mine was all bad. This other fellow won, and won, and won. Remarkable.”
“Did your friend lose, too?”
“He did. He also lost the night before. That’s why he went back. Thought his luck had to turn.”
“But it didn’t,” Lady Sara said thoughtfully. “Were you planning to have another go at it tonight to see if your luck would turn?”
“At first, I was. But I told Lady Woolston what happened, and she threw a fit. Insisted I tell you about it.”
“There are several possibilities,” Lady Sara said. “One is that you really had a run of bad luck, but such runs rarely last an entire evening—or, in the case of your friend, two entire evenings. Another is that your own inept play was responsible, but I have played cards with you, and I doubt that.”
“Never considered myself an expert,” Lord Woolston said, “but I usually hold my own.”
“So the third possibility is the more likely one. You were cheated. The methods of cheating at cards are legion. The cards could have been marked, or the sharper could have marked them himself in the course of play. In addition, several varieties of sleight-of-hand or manipulation are possible in baccarat. A reflector—there are numerous kinds—could have enabled the sharper to identify every card as it was dealt. A holdout could have been used. There are many types, and all are devices to conceal one or more cards until it or they can be played advantageously. In connection with this, extra cards are sometimes smuggled into the game. How many players were there?”
“There were five of us.”
“Then the sharper could have had one or two collaborators, which introduces other possibilities for cheating. However it was managed, you were cheated outrageously. The question is—what can be done about it?”
Lord Woolston harrumphed. “Don’t want any fuss, you know. No publicity.”
Lady Sara smiled. “Believe me—neither does the man who cheated you. On the other hand, if nothing is done to stop him, he’ll go right on cheating. This is what I suggest. Go back there tonight and play again. Take two ‘friends’ with you. One of them will be my footman, Charles Tupper. He can spot a sharper across the room and give him back more than he bargains for. The other will be a police officer who is just as good. You’ll get your five thousand pounds back. You’ll also give the sharper a good scare. An official record will be made so the police can keep an eye on him from now on.”
“All right,” Lord Woolston said. “I’ll do it.”
“You can call here after dinner for Charles and the police officer—would nine o’clock do? Along the way, you can give them the information they will need, and they can give you your instructions. Done?”
“Done,” Lord Woolston agreed.
I ushered him out, and Blanche Dillion took his place in the library. She looked at me timidly. Then she turned to Lady Sara. “Does he have to be here?”
“He is my assistant,” Lady Sara said kindly. “We will probably need his help, so it is important that he know what your problem is. He will do his best for you just as I will.”
The young woman sat in silence for a moment. Then she burst into tears. “He said he loved me,” she said.
“Let
